


Jayhawk

by TheKillerCamaro



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: F/M, Yandere Takami Keigo | Hawks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29172012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKillerCamaro/pseuds/TheKillerCamaro
Summary: Welcome to the 133rd bi-annual Hunger Games. Is it even possible for a quirkless tribute to win? More important, can things somehow get any worse?
Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Reader
Comments: 51
Kudos: 124





	1. Lucky Duck

**Author's Note:**

> It's a yandere fic so just be prepared. Tags will inevitably get nastier as we go on. More characters will be added, too.  
> I have two sources of inspiration for this. One is from AO3 user ThunderGoddessKino's 'Snared Dove.' Got me hooked on yandere-Hawks. The second is a fic I read years and years ago that's stuck with me, a Hetalia/Hunger Games fic by Number One Fan of Journey 'Horrible.' I've wanted to write my own Hunger Games fic since, so...  
> Buckle up, buttercups. This is gonna be a lot of fun.
> 
> PLEASE I am looking for a beta reader on this project. If you're interested, let me know.

Being quirkless in a society full of people with quirks was the absolute worst. You were one of the very few in the population still able to claim that status--it was so rare, so discouraged that less than an estimated 6% of your fellow humans were of your same demographic.

  
What made it even more terrible were the Games. They were held every other year at the behest of the president's Commission, a group of individuals who had no business running anything in your humble opinion. And it was your humble opinion. As a quirkless nobody, you were always humble.

  
There were two ends to the spectrum of what you called 'the rest of society.' There were those that despised your kind, usually those in power, and there were those that considered taking the underdog's side their religion. The pity they gave you, this ethereal, unnerving sanctity was a form of torture on its own. You were not a saint, you in your poor clothes, your belly so lean you were only hard muscle and bone.

  
There were donations made, temples built in adulation of the quirkless. It was proposed several times that a separate set of Hunger Games be held in the off year for the those not blessed with quirks. There hadn't been a quirkless victor in over sixty years. Of the one hundred and thirty-two games held, there had only been only two quirkless winners.

  
Those two had held a position of power in Japanese society unlike anyone had experienced before or after. They were revered and hated, multiple assassination attempts were made, once someone had begged one of them to kill himself in a sort of human sacrifice.

  
"You are so special and holy," they'd said. "Surely, your death would mean something. Perhaps it could save the world."

  
To the man they'd addressed this, all he had to say was, "If I was wanted dead, the Games would have killed me."

  
You took that to heart. It was your mantra. It was such a raw, real response. There was no sugar coating, no backtracking. The only way to combat the hatred and reverence both at once.

  
The doctors had thought your older brother was quirkless. Turns out, he was just a late bloomer. Like, ten years late. He was a bright, intelligent young man now with one of the most powerful quirks you'd ever seen. Well, you'd only really seen how powerful it was on TV. He was off in another District--District Ki now, you think?--training to become a hero.

  
He sent money home, enough to keep you and your mother comfortable. He was paid for the training and he was the apprentice of the greatest hero in the world, All Might. You'd even gotten to meet him once when you were younger. He'd come to introduce himself to your mother and ask permission to take Izuku under his wing. It was dangerous business being a hero and there was a lot of bureaucracy involved in allowing civilians to travel between Districts. Until Izuku had his hero's license, that's all he was. Obtaining permission from your mother had been the first step in a long trail of paperwork.

  
"Do you have to go?" you'd asked Izuku his last day home. You lived in an older apartment building on the edge of town. The mesh fence that divided District Ao from the wilderness was just a stone's throw away from your complex.

  
"I wish I didn't have to but I do," he'd said. "I'll be able to earn money and send it back so you and mom can eat. You might even be able to move to a nicer part of town and afford yakitori. Wouldn't that be nice?"

  
"I guess so," you mumbled. You knew in your twelve year old heart there was nothing you could say that could get him to stay.

  
"Hey. Before I go, I want to tell you something," Izuku said, suddenly serious. He wasn't smiling which was strange. He usually smiled. "Don't take tesserae this year. Or any year. Well, you won't even think about it next time, but not this year. Just get by with what you have. I'll send you and mom money as soon as I can."

  
You narrowed your eyes at him. "I don't want to be hungry. Or mom to be hungry."

  
He gave you a pained look, rubbing your head. "I don't know how anyone could look at you and send you to the Games. You're too cute. But one ticket's enough. Don't take tesserae, okay? I'm serious."

  
"Okay," you said forcefully, shoving his hand off. "I get it."

  
"You'll write to me, won't you?"

  
"I don't think they'll let me send letters to another District."

  
"Oh, well. Can you keep a journal for me, then? Write down letters for me in there? I can read them when I get back."

  
Izuku loved to write. If he weren't deadset on becoming a hero, he'd be a writer. An underground one, of course, because the government didn't allow much besides educational material to be published but a writer nonetheless.

  
"Sure," you grumbled.

  
He laughed and asked if you wanted to be tossed high in the air using his quirk. Your mom hated when he did that and it was illegal to use quirks outside officially authorized jurisdiction but Izuku was All Might's apprentice. Who was going to stop him?

  
That was six years ago. You were eighteen now, Izuku twenty. He was still All Might's apprentice--the time required of apprenticeship-only education was seven years--and you hadn't taken any tesserae. There were only four tickets with your name on them in that crystal bowl. You had one more year to worry and you weren't that bothered about it anymore. The odds were definitely in your favor.

  
You'd managed to start your own little business on your free time from school. You were graduating from high school with high honors, your university prospects excellent--as in, you would go to university at all. District Ao only had two colleges and in-district was the only option available--and your mother had moved you to the nicer end of town as Izuku's cash flow started to build up. You had a nice mid-level apartment in a shopping district and you could afford to keep a small dog.

  
You sold paintings. You would buy white acrylic from a local shop and make different colors yourself using powders, plant extracts and berry juice. The berries and plants you collected from the scroungy wilds at the edge of the district fence; the powders were expired medicinal concoctions you bought from the apothecary for cheap. Your favorite subject was animals--especially your own dog, Sika--and you traded these paintings at a special Tokyo outreach market for small luxury items. Tokyo really liked what they called 'district local' and 'foreign native' art. The labels meant little to you beyond a warm fleece blanket in beautiful shades of cranberry or pain medication that was otherwise rationed.

  
Izuku, one on of his return visits home, had told you excitedly he'd seen one of your paintings at a niche gallery in Tokyo. He'd chased a villain into the building and had almost lost him because he'd been so shocked to see Sika on the wall. He'd been dying to tell you sooner but not even he, one of society's esteemed heroes, was allowed to send messages inter-district.

  
Your life was going well as far as you were concerned. Nothing much concerned you--not your college education, not money, not food, not even your very last Reaping. There were thousands of slips in that bowl. How were they going to find your four?

  
Your luck was ripped out from under you as your name rang over the gathered crowd. The entire District Ao was there, almost thirty thousand people, five thousand of those children in the Reaping.

  
People had to nudge you forward to get you to move. You could hear your poor mother crying out behind you but peace officers urged you on up the stage without giving you a chance to look back. The sunlight was blinding on that stage, giving you a sense of vertigo.

  
You weren't really certain what was happening as the Tokyo ambassador, a scantily dressed woman who called herself Ms. Midnight, named the boy tribute who was herded up on stage with you. His name was Tenya Iida, a tall and muscular boy with a bio-mechanical quirk in his calf muscles. At least he stood a chance.

  
Maybe, though, you were the luckiest person in the world--of the six billion people on planet earth, you were part of the measly 6% without a quirk _and_ you'd been drawn for Tokyo's bi-annual Hunger Games. 

  
There had only been two quirkless winners out of the hundred and thirty-two Games held. Maybe your luck would play in your favor against those odds.

  
Little did you know that the Games, terrible as they were, wasn't the worst thing to happen to you. If only you had known, you would have ended it in the arena. It was nothing compared to what came next.


	2. Tokyo Flavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written 11k words for this little indulgement in <48 hours. wooow!!  
> I know it starts slow and predictable but we'll get there. Hawks needs a little buildup for a grand entrance, you know?
> 
> If you'd be interested in beta reading for this story, please let me know.

Heroes were revered in a way that quirkless weren't. They were the same but different, you supposed. You would rather be a hero. At least you'd be able to defend yourself. With a quirk, you might stand a betting chance when they pulled out a certain little slip, one with a notch, and announced your name to the crowd of thousands.

  
Now you sat alone in a plush evergreen room with a candle burning in the corner. It smelled like pine sap, heavy, and you had stared at the flickering little fire for so long you'd become mesmerized. Goosebumps kept rising on your arms, your heart was beating too quick, your breath too shallow but you were unaware. For some strange reason, you considered touching the flame. Today was so strange, perhaps it would get a tad stranger and not burn you?

  
Midoriya Inko was a tough woman, a very stalwart spirit, but when they led her into the room she was an absolute bawling mess. Tears streamed down her cheeks, snot from her nose. She grabbed you in a hug and, with a start, you clutched her back. You hadn't said a word on the short car ride here, mute since the reaping. Now you found your voice and it was shrill with fear.

  
"Mom, I don't know what... What's gonna happen to me?"

  
She had her fingers buried in your hair. Your shoulder was soaked with tears. "I don't know, baby. Oh--oh, if only Izuku were here, maybe we could..."

  
"No, Mom," you said and surprised yourself. Your voice was steadier, if a little weak. Your eyes were back on that candle flame. "He couldn't do anything. It wouldn't change anything."

  
"Sweetheart, baby." Inko suddenly gripped your shoulders hard enough to smart and you found your eyes locked on hers. "Did you take tesserae?"

  
"I--no, Mom."

  
"Don't lie to me. You had to, there's no way... No way they picked your name. Four in five thousand... It's not possible."

  
Your gaze fell, swallowing down an impossibly large lump in your throat. "I know, Mom."

  
"There's got to have been a mistake," Inko said. Her tone was distant. "There's a misunderstanding, I just... We need Izuku. We need All Might, he'll be able to fix this." Her fingers tightened, nails digging into your skin. "I can't lose you, baby. First your father, then Izuku... you're all I have left."

  
You felt numb yet your heart was cracking in your chest. "I know, Mom."

  
"It was the last time... The very last Reaping where I had to worry about one of my babies and I just can't--"

  
She sat there clutching you for a long time. You let her, for both of your sake.

  
Finally you pulled away, tried to look her in the eyes. It was hard because your vision wobbled with tears. "I haven't got much for you, Mom," you said, voice quiet and delicate. "All I can say is that I'll do my best."

  
Inko Midoriya dissolved into further sobs. The peace officer who'd led her in led her back out eventually, despite your joint protests. He was wearing a mask and you wondered if he looked mortified behind it. Probably not. He might if he knew you were quirkless.

  
There were no second visitors for him to lead it. If Izuku had been here, he would have stayed the entire time even if he had to do it by force. He'd get himself in trouble, you know it, and it made you glad he was safe in a District far away. Oh, he'd find out eventually but even a few more hours in ignorance sounded like pure bliss.

  
You were allotted an hour and spent the rest of it sitting alone, staring at the candle flame. At one point you actually got up and reached a hand towards it, imagination shedding your inhibition. Maybe it wouldn't burn. You felt like you were going numb, dissociating, and you wanted to feel something.

The peace officer came back and stopped you before you could follow through. He sounded bewildered at your behavior, holding your shoulders firm as he ushered you back out to the car that had brought you here. The sky had gone gray in your farewell hour. It was going to rain soon, you knew it by the tang in the air.

The train station was empty save for you, your peace officer, Iida Tenya, his peace officer and Ms. Midnight. You supposed she had to get back to Tokyo somehow but you weren't enthused she'd be tagging along with you. Although...the car directly in front of you was open but looking up and down the length of the train you thought there must be at least thirty cars. Why so many? Maybe she'd get in a different one.

Ms. Midnight was overly friendly, a little flirty with Iida which made you frown in distaste, but cordial with you. As cordial as a strange Tokyo resident could be, at least. They were just plain bizarre--their dress, their makeup, their endless trinkets and tattoos, their affect, their slang.

  
"Well, here we are. I assume we're ready to head out?" She glanced between the two of you. Your only response was silence because everyone here knew it didn't matter if you were ready or not. "That's what I thought," she said with a sigh that sounded heavier than you expected. "Well, children, let's go. Better to get this over with."

  
She led you onto the train which was just as plush--no, more bourgie--than the sitting room you'd just spent an hour in. Gold trim along the ceiling and the base molding, satin red carpets that left footprints as you walked, rooms with heavy oak doors and silver plaques with numbers. Was that real silver? You'd never seen silver before.

  
"While you were saying goodbye, we took the liberty of collecting a few items for you at the instruction of your parents," Ms. Midnight told you and pointed to two duffel bags in the corner. "A few personal tokens to keep you company. Clothes, mostly, but I'm sure your parents included a few things extra. We told them clothes were a bad option. District dress is quaint and cute but it won't pass in Tokyo."

  
You scrunched your nose, curious. You didn't know that they let you have some personal items. Why in the world would they let you bring things they were just going to have to transport back to your District along with your corpse?

  
Iida was more taken by it than you seemed to be. He made a beeline for his duffel but Ms. Midnight stopped him. "I know you're eager, but tour first. Then lunch. I'm starving."

  
You shot a look at the back of her head, anger burning low and quiet like that candle flame. What did it matter--it was a train, there was only so much to see. If you had to spend another minute with her, you would rather it be over lunch than a tour. At least you'd get something out of it.

  
Ms. Midnight had been District Ao's ambassador for as long as you could remember. Well, maybe you remember her predecessor presiding over Izuku's first Reaping but she'd been in charge all four of yours. She'd never bothered you like she was suddenly, irreparably bothering you in this very minute. _She'd_ drawn your name. _She'd done this to you._

  
As she led you through a very basic tour of your section of train, showing you the bathrooms and your bed, the dining car with its corner of viewing windows, you stewed in your hatred for her. Forget the Games, maybe the killing should begin now. You doubted you could take her, her being a former pro hero, but what did you have to lose anymore?

  
"Are you okay?" Iida whispered to you. 

  
You blinked, at him, startled. Ms. Midnight had sat the two of you down at the table in the dining car and said she was going to fetch someone and be back shortly. Please, feel free to begin eating without her if the meal arrived before she did.

  
"It's... I've noticed you've been glaring really hard at Ms. Midnight," he explained quietly. "Did she, um... do something?"

  
You stared at him, eyes blank. "She drew my name," you told him. Then, because you were feeling spiteful, you added, "She drew your name, too."

  
That shut him right up. You thought it might make you feel smug, seeing his expression shrivel, but it didn't. You silently watched as a pair of Tokyo capital servants began bring in loaded trays of food. When you said loaded, you meant they were near to overflowing and they just kept coming. You'd never seen so much food in your life. The scents all hitting you at once nearly made you dizzy and a string of drool managed to drip down your chin before you realized and swiped it away.

  
There was duck, there was chicken, beef, pork, two kinds of soup, green beans and carrots in some sort of biting sauce, plain rice in heaping mounds, multiple fruits covered in spices, milk bread that was still warm, juices and wine. It took all you had not to attempt pocketing the juice. You weren't a thief (often) but that color of orange for your paintings would really pop, especially on tigers or in dramatic lighting.

  
You dug in as soon as you could, chopsticks nearly abandoned. Iida was more polite than you by miles. When Ms. Midnight returned, she found the demure young man she'd left behind and a ravenous beast. You knew these foods were far too rich for you, even with your better-than-average diet per Izuku's stipend, but you didn't care. They made you feel full and you'd been feeling empty, like a husk, ever since your name had been called.

  
Ms. Midnight made a show of clearing her throat but you made an equal show of ignoring her. You didn't even look her way, just kept eating. It was the guttural, growly voice of the man beside her, one of two people she'd brought back, that made you slow down enough to taste your food again.

  
It appeared you had two mentors along for the ride. The one who'd scolded you was a disheveled, unapproachable looking man in all black and the other was a tall young woman with a wild, arching ponytail over her shoulder. You had never seen either of these people before and District Ao wasn't terribly large. Perhaps you could recall the woman... She had to have won her Games within the last five years. The man was surely too old for you to recall his Games.

  
The woman introduced herself to you and your unfortunate male counterpart immediately.

  
"My name is Yaoyorozu but you can call me Momo." She bowed her head. "I'm terribly sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances. Please, allow me to serve you to the best of my ability. I want nothing more than to get you through this."

  
She did not add, And get you home. You knew why and you didn't particularly blame her. It must be hard meeting a new pair of kids who were inbound to die every other year. It probably wore on her terribly.

  
You weren't so sure it bothered the man as much.

  
"I'm going to bed," he told you and promptly dragged a yellow sleeping bag from under his seat and lay down in the next sectional over as Ms. Midnight made an exasperated noise. "Don't bother me unless it's absolutely necessary," he added.

  
Yaoyorozu wore an uncomfortable expression and the tone of her voice mirrored it as she sat down to the table, Ms. Midnight copying her. "Well, we should get to know each other a little bit, don't you think? Can you tell me your names again? I apologize, I should know them but--" She stopped herself. You were certain she was going to say, 'But I'm not obligated to watch the Games anymore now the I'm a victor so I had my TV off and I was napping on a goose down bed in my massive, endless penthouse apartment with my husband. Our children will not be subject to the Games because of my victor status.'

  
Yeah, definitely what she was going to say. That or, 'But I saw two of you last time and two years before that and I'll see two more in the next round. I'll never see them again and I'll never see you again, either. I can't remember all these names.'

  
"...and tell me a little about your families."

  
That made you choke on a bit of lemon pepper chicken. Wait, what? Hold on, wasn't that a tad personal?

  
"I have an older brother," Iida was saying, no reluctance at all. He'd put his chopsticks down, his plate not even half finished. He hadn't even taken that much to begin with. "I actually have two older brothers. They're too old for the Games anymore or they would have volunteered for me. That's what they told me when we were saying goodbye." Tears were gathering in his eyes. "My mom doesn't think I'm going to win but she did promise she'd be cheering me on every single minute. My dad's got cancer and he's dying. He couldn't come to the farewell meet so I didn't..."

  
He broke down in sobs he tried to muffle with his hand.

  
Yaoyorozu immediately leaned across the table and put her palm on his shoulder. "I know, I know it's hard. I'm sorry, Iida. I truly am so sorry."

  
You sat on the side awkwardly. You hadn't taken a bite of anything for a few minutes and you stared down at your mostly bare plate, eyes caught on a particular grain of pepper. You didn't want to look at Iida because you felt you might burst into tears if you did. Him talking about his brothers was making you think of Izuku and your mother. You had often wondered throughout your childhood if your dad would ever return but now you doubted you'd have the chance to find out. It was like a mirror, Iida's story and yours.

  
"Are you alright?"

  
You realized the question was directed you ten seconds after it was asked. You whipped your head towards Yaoyorozu as she put a hand on yours which was white-knuckled on your chopsticks.

  
"I, um... Yeah, I guess so."

  
She smiled at you sadly, such a pitying smile that your throat tightened even further. You willed yourself not to cry. You had to be tough.

  
"I can't give you much better advice than to keep your family in your mind as much as you can. Fight hard so you can go back to them," she said. She sounded weak. You thought she knew she sounded weak but she was between a rock and a hard place and she didn't have a lot to work with.

  
It seemed she wasn't a liar, though.

  
To her credit, Ms. Midnight stayed silent throughout the exchange. You might have sounded off on her if she had any stupid comment she decided to give voice to. It would be typical Tokyo always butting their noses where they weren't wanted. Your pinpoint anger had not left you and you hoped throughout the meal that she might choke on her food.  
When Iida finished crying, Yaoyorozu instructed you both to head to bed and rest. The ride was going to last for at least ten more hours, despite it being a bullet train. You'd reach the edge of Tokyo by mid-morning and the station by noon.

  
Before you parted ways in the hallway, Iida stopped you.

  
"I know your brother," he said. He stood ramrod straight and looked incredibly awkward. "He's the strongest guy I know so... I think you can make it. You've got a shot at this."

  
You gave him a sad look. "I don't have a quirk, actually," you said quietly. "But thanks."

  
Maybe you shouldn't have told him that. Tribute quirks weren't revealed to the public so it was possible for them to be surprises later in the games. The Tokyo audience enjoyed it more that way--twists were the best and it made betting fun. Of course, tributes could decide to reveal their quirks early, such as in the interviews or during training. In training, only the other tributes would know; if in interviews, all of Japan would see.

  
Iida's face fell in a a crash-and-burn way. You turned and went to your room before he could come up with anything to say. There was nothing he could think of that would make you feel better.


	3. A Little Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot longer than I thought it would be but I couldn't break it into two parts at any one place.  
> An interesting note, I've been trying 10min writing sprints. No pauses, no editing. Start with a brief synopsis of what needs to happen and then make it happen. I'm immensely pleased with the results. I'm getting much more written than usual.
> 
> If you'd be interested in beta-reading for this story, please let me know.

You officially met your other mentor, Aizawa, just as the first Tokyo skyscraper came into view through a mountain pass. The train had stopped several times throughout the night to pick up more tributes from other districts. Each district was given a pair of cars that were sealed off from all other cars so that no mixing of tributes could occur. If someone wanted to start the bloodbath early, they'd have to climb onto the roof of the train, jump to the next car and somehow break in all while holding onto nothing going 250 miles per hour.

  
"Tell me your quirks," was the first thing he said as he slowly ate his breakfast. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy. How did he look so tired if he'd gone to sleep at seven p.m. yesterday?

  
"I don't have one," you said immediately. Iida already knew so you had no reason to hide it.

  
Yaoyorozu, out of the corner of your eye, looked mortified but she quickly tried to hide it by turning her head. To you gratification, even Ms. Midnight who had deigned join you for breakfast appeared a little upset.

Iida gave you a reproachful look over his miso soup and rice and mumbled, "I have turbo engine calves. They give me superspeed for a short period of time."

  
Aizawa nodded at him in approval. "Very nice. I can work with that." To you, he said, "That's tough. Not really sure what to do with you, I'll be honest."

  
You frowned at him. "Are you serious? That's all you've got?"

  
He leaned back in his side of the booth, sucking down a yogurt squeeze. "Afraid so, kid." His eyes narrowed. "Although the question is, that all _you've_ got?"

  
You refrained from casting a furious look at Yaoyorozu who was staring at her spinach eggs in silence. You knew she didn't want to look at you.

  
"That's fine," you growled, standing. "Go ahead, be like the rest and don't even give me a chance. I'll figure it out on my own."

  
You sat the rest of the morning alone at the window in the back of the sleeper car. You watched Tokyo rise up around you. There were people everywhere--that was your first takeaway. Thousands, millions of people passed you by just on this one train on this one track. Many of them stopped to look, many waved, there were cheers. They were all eerie and strange like your ambassador, Miss Midnight. They were all trying so hard to look different that they somehow began looking the same.

  
You were stewing over Aizawa's blase statement earlier. Really? Of all the people, you had to get stuck with a mentor with that attitude towards quirkless? You weren't sure if he would be better if he was a quirkless cultist but maybe, just maybe, you'd appreciate a little attention before you died. It's not like you had much more time. Didn't that warrant a smidge of kindness?

  
You ran your fingers up and down the spine of one of Izuku's notebooks. You'd found it in your duffel last night along with two sets of your nicer clothes, a candle in the scent of mulled cider and a locket with a group photo of you, your mother and Izuku. You were two years younger and holding Sika in your arms. The little collection of items had made you cry until your tears ran dry, falling asleep with damp cheeks. You were glad you hadn't opened the duffel earlier--you didn't want anyone to see just how scared you truly were.

  
This notebook was the first of his many, the one with All Might's profile. You couldn't think about All Might for long because it made you imagine your brother's heartbroken tears as he heard the news. If he'd have been there to say goodbye, he would have told you, "I'll tell All Might. Maybe he can help. I know he can help. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

  
Or maybe he'd go a different direction, say something like, "I know you can do this. You're smart and resourceful and you've made it this far without a quirk." He'd fix you with those piercing green eyes of his, insist, "You still need to get a piece into the National Tokyo Gallery, the one that the president likes to visit. You can't miss out on that, right? Or District Kuro with the black sand beaches? I'm gonna take you to see the ocean one day, I swear it."

  
You leaned back, resting your neck so you were staring at the ceiling as the scenery rushed past. The train had slowed since you reached the city. You wondered if your brother was naive or optimistic. Did it matter? It's not as though you were ever going to talk to him again. You wondered if you would be able to see the ocean from Tokyo. You knew it was close but you hadn't paid enough attention in geography to remember now.

  
The train ride just kept on going. You stayed in your corner, watching as rain began to fall. It was a soft, cloudy gray day outside--maybe more silver than gray. You loved these kinds of days and you wished you could open the window, feel the wind.

  
Eventually someone came to sit beside you. You didn't look but there was a flash of yellow. It told you it was Aizawa. You stiffened. What could he want? To bruise your psyche some more?

  
"Come on, kid. We've only got about an hour left. Then you're gonna be hit with another sort of train instead of riding on one." His voice was low, demure.

  
You still refused to look at him, gripping your upper arms so hard that your knuckles were going pale. The further you came into the city, the thicker the crowd and building clusters became. The weirder, too, with more vibrant colors and neon signs and endless TV screens the size of one wall in you and your mother's apartment. Ads for everything from strange, plastic-looking foods to nose hair fashion flashed across those screens. It made you recoil into yourself, trying to shrink away.

  
"Alright, here. We'll try this. I have a quirk. Do you know what it is?"

  
You just wanted him to leave you alone. "No, I don't."

  
"It's called Erasure. I can negate other people's quirks by looking at them." He shifted in his seat, a rough sigh escaping his five o'clock shadow mouth. "I can be pretty useful until I come across a mutant type. You know what sort of quirk I had to face down in the last few days of my Games?"

  
You shrugged, hoping to communicate you didn't care. You did, though, just a bit.

  
"He was a tiger mutant. Huge, muscular, the strength of ten normal men easy. And he was eighteen." Aizawa was chewing on his lip, picking at his nails. "I was thirteen. I had two knives, a lighter and three strips of salted beef. I was hiding out in a cave trying to outlast him. The arena was a jungle-type, real hot and humid, but there were no animals and most of the plants were poisonous. I thought I could game him on the clock, starve him and go home."

  
You turned and stared at him, openly interested. Looking at Aizawa now, he wasn't a very large person, maybe even a bit leaner than average even by District standards. You could imagine he'd been fairly scrawny at thirteen.

  
"He smelled me out. My beef, that is, the thing I thought was most precious in the whole arena... That's how he found me. He cornered me in my cave. He'd surprised me in my sleep, too, so I was disoriented. I only survived because I caught one of his paws on a knife and I was awake enough to drive the other straight into his face." Aizawa's voice faded a little. "It didn't kill him instantly. He sort of... screamed and stumbled away and I had to rip the blade out of his paw and stab him again. I didn't even know what I was doing, I just sort of went into autopilot."

  
The implication of that--being on autopilot while stabbing someone to death--was gruesome to say the least. 

  
You weren't sure what to say. You really couldn't recall a games with a scrawny thirteen year old stabbing a tiger mutant to death. How old was Aizawa?

  
"So," he said, fixing a piercing stare on you. It made goosebumps raise on your arms. The cheering outside had only gotten louder as time went on, drowning out the steady thrum of the rain. He'd said he erased others quirks with his eyes--with the intensity he was gazing at you with right now, you were compelled to believe him.

  
"So?" you said back.

  
He let out a sigh between clenched teeth. "Do you see my point? I had a point with that kid, I didn't just want to open up and dump on you."

  
"Oh?" How eloquent you were today. But hey, cut yourself some slack. You'd just been reaped not even twelve hours ago.

  
"I'm not quirkless," Aizawa said very slowly. "But in that situation I may as well have been. All I had were my wits, my weapons and a will to survive." He leaned a little closer, elbows on knees. "If you ask my honest opinion, and I'm always honest, I think that that's the most important thing a person can take into the Games--a will to survive."

  
You met his eyes for an uncomfortable moment before dropping them to your hands. They were twisted together, fingers at every odd angle. "Oh. Yeah?"

  
"Yeah. And I've been doing this a while, so... There've been kids I didn't think would make it far that got down to the bottom six, final four, the top two. I know that's not where you want to be but it means there's hope." He tipped his chin back in the direction of the dining car where the others were probably sitting right now. "Momo--Yaoyorozu wasn't one I thought would pull it off. But look at her. Won her games and got to come home. Timid little thing, scared out of her mind when I first met her, but she's got brains." He gave you another pointed look. "How're your grades?"

  
"They're pretty good?"

  
"Give me a letter estimate."

  
"A's."

  
"Good. And how much do you want to go home?"

  
Your hands were trembling and you hated how tears began to prick at your eyes. "Very much."

  
A hand rested on your shoulder, firm but gentle, and Aizawa repeated, "Good. Yaoyorozu was onto something when she asked you about your families. That's the most important thing you can keep in mind in the arena. Kinda like a lifeline, I'd say."

  
You couldn't speak for several long moments, your throat choked up, but when you did find your voice you still couldn't raise your gaze to meet Aizawa's, so you mumbled to your lap, "Okay."

  
"You got any talents? Anything you're just really good at?"

  
"Anything?" you sniffled.

  
"Anything. The more creative, the better. It's the clever ones that make these Games, let me tell you." He quickly added, "Make it out of them, I mean. I don't watch this garbage for fun."

  
"I can... um, paint," you said. "I make my own paints with plants and berries. And I know a bit about the plants around District Ao."

  
"Good. That gives me something to work with, kid." Aizawa's tone had picked up, actually sounded a little encouraging. You had no idea how you were going to paint your way out of the arena but, okay, this must be a start. "You've got a step up on the rest of these quirkies just with that. Your grades tell me you can memorize. Your buddy might have an edge with his quirk but eating poison'll kill him just as quick as it'll kill you."

  
While you appreciated the advice you were unsettled by the way Aizawa was almost dismissive of Iida. Maybe he was just talking like this for this one conversation with you but the implication that the competition was on--that Iida stood between you and going home--made your insides tighten. You told yourself you didn't want him to die. You just wanted to live. You weren't a bad person...right?

  
"One last thing, kid." Aizawa had turned to stare out the window. The crowd had somehow gotten even thicker. There must be thousands just within a hundred yard radius of your current position. On top of that, you could feel the train slowing. The station was near. "I want to tell you that there are two different opponents in the Games--the other tributes and the arena itself. The way I see it, you're on par with every other quirkie there when it's just you vs. the arena. We'll talk more later but start thinking about a strategy of staying out of the way, just surviving the environment. Avoidance strategy, I guess."

  
You felt a little numb as you took in the pressing Tokyo mob. You agreed that an avoidance tactic would probably be your best bet but you weren't so sure you vs. the arena necessarily put you on par with your quirkie adversaries. Quirks weren't just good for killing people, after all. For instance, Iida could outrun a fire, a predator. The heat from his engines might provide him enough warmth to make it through a freezing night. There were still advantages he had that you did not.

  
Aizawa just doesn't get it, you decided. He just didn't understand how debilitating not having a quirk truly was. It hurt, you realized, to think about your quirklessness that way. You'd never been proud of it but you'd never viewed it as an outright handicap before.

  
Now was not the time to dwell on that, though, as Ms. Midnight urged you and Iida to collect your things--all two duffel bags of them--and position yourselves at the door of the car. Yaoyorozu and Aizawa gathered their own belongings and stood with you. You noticed how their faces had both seemed to harden, lips a little tighter and brows a bit more set. Ms. Midnight looked as relaxed and laid-back as ever, if with a small frown. She reached over to adjust your collar, tittering about how District people were never particular enough with their appearance to fit into a Tokyo crowd.

  
When the doors opened your mentors shifted. Yaoyorozu's change was far more apparent, visibly loosening her face and smiling, raising a hand for a dainty wave; the crowd immediately responded with shouts of her name, calling her 'Momo' and cries of 'we missed you!' Aizawa somehow managed to look more bored, eyes averted over everyone's heads. You couldn't decide if he looked arrogant or uncomfortable. No one really called out for him.

  
You were ushered out, Iida along with you and peace officers on either side trying to keep the crowd back. Ms. Midnight and Yaoyorozu were talking to everyone, being gracious, which compelled the crowd to press closer. You were trying your best to stay with the group but you lost your sense of direction (where were you supposed to go even?) and then Iida was gone, the rest of your party with him.

  
You were surrounded by too many, way too many, Tokyo capital citizens, their obnoxious colors and intoxicated perfumes overwhelming you to the point where you felt you were spinning in circles. Were they spinning you? They were touching you, grabbing at your clothes and running their fingers through your hair. They were all talking, spouting nonsense in their weird dialect. If you had to name the emotional temperature of the crowd, you'd say looked ecstatic to see you.

  
You sort of surrended for a second, unsure what to do or how to get away, when shouting was heard over the din. You recognized that voice--it was Ms. Midnight.

  
You turned towards it to find the petite woman forcing her way through the throng snarling at everyone. You'd never seen her so animated before, face drawn in anger, and you'd never imagined yourself so relieved to see her. Her voice was sharp, lacking her usual Tokyo drawl. She caught up to you, snatched your arm and said, "Stay with me. Don't let go." Then she began dragging you back the way she came. You let her pull you along, finding comfort in the sting of her long nails into your skin. It was grounding. The pain reminded you this wasn't some strange nightmare.

  
You wished it was.

  
The two of you caught up with the others at the entrance of a car which you were unceremoniously shoved into. Ms. Midnight bundled in after. As soon as the door slammed shut, there was quiet. The windows were tinted, lending a twilight feeling to the vehicle's interior. Iida sat looking disheveled, Yaoyorozu had reverted into her passive frown and Aizawa was staring out the window. Someone had their palm pressed on the glass in front of his face. He breathed on it and began drawing in the fog.

  
The going was slow as peace officers parted the crowd and no one seemed to want to talk. Even Ms. Midnight kept her voice down, probably just swearing under her breath as she readjusted her hair, accessories and inspected her nails. She let out a little whine as she realized one had been chipped. Her mesh sleeve was nicked, too, revealing that much more skin.

  
The ride ended in front of a massive hotel with a prominent flashing sign indicating it was 'The 501.' The building was bigger than anything you'd ever seen and you had to stop just before the eaves, craning your neck up so that you could see the brick nearly disappearing into the clouds. The sky was still overcast but the rain had let up. It was humid but cool, reminding you of District Ao in autumn.

  
There were fewer people here. You realized it was due to the tall chain link fencing set up around the perimeter of the hotel, barbed wire laced across the top. There were still Tokyo citizens standing along the fence but not as many. They were quieter, too. Mostly there were peace officers, their monochrome armor and white uniforms stark against the vibrant colors of the capital city. Neon signs flashed at you from the surrounding buildings which seemed to have parted to give this hotel the berth it deserved.

  
There were more cars arriving, identical to yours, and the lot of you were brought inside rather quickly. At the front desk, Aizawa, Yaoyorozu and Ms. Midnight flashed a set of IDs, you were given Floor 32 and up you went on an elevator. You had an elevator in your apartment building but the speed of this one made your legs weak as your heart dropped into your stomach. You got out as quickly as possible once the doors dinged open with a mechanical hiss, giving it a backwards glare. You didn't look forward to riding it again.

  
The room you entered was as massive as the hotel's exterior suggested it might be. In fact, you realized this must make up the whole 32nd floor. There was a sprawling living space with an assortment of leather furniture, a huge square of marble tiles in the center of room, then on the opposite end a giant kitchen that would have made your mother swoon. She loved to cook and she would have found plenty use for the quarter mile of counter space, two deep country sinks, an industrial oven and--was that a walk-in fridge? Of course, it was all accented by bright green appliances from a blender to a mixer to a microwave. To say it was dazzling was an understatement.

  
The far wall across from you had two hallways that were dimly lit. You guessed there were bedrooms down that way. Bathrooms, too, since you couldn't see any other doors--and of course you couldn't. The two side walls were made up entirely of glass. Floor-to-ceiling, as pristine and clear as if there were no barrier at all between you and a thirty-two story fall.

  
Hmm. You know, in your predicament, a little one-way ground trip didn't sound so bad. It'd be quick, painless. No more Tokyo, no more Games.

  
...No more Mom or Izuku, either. Or Sika. No more painting for the exchange market, no more college in the fall. You had yet to decide which major you wanted to pursue. No more anything at all, you supposed. Just nothing. Not anything but nothing.

  
You walked closer to one of the windows to hide your expression from the others, pretending to be mesmerized. You told yourself to calm down, think about what Aizawa had said earlier. He had hope. He could help you. If he did, you might make it through this. Maybe, just maybe. Panicking surely wasn't going to do you any favors...

  
The view was truly mesmerizing. Tokyo was spread before you, around you, for miles and miles. You could see Tokyo Tower over there, a thousand streets all criss-crossing one another, hundreds of buildings of every style and color, most of them smaller than yours. Neon caught your gaze then, there, and a tremor ran through you as you imagined what it must look like after dusk. You were certain it would be beautiful, a glittering sea of color and lights that was eager, hungry, alive.

  
You were eager for this to be over, not so hungry after stuffing yourself last night and you were alive for the time being. You didn't really belong here. You really wanted to go home.

  
"Hey, kid." You jumped, tearing your eyes away from the city and finding Aizawa looking at you. One brow was raised. "The desk just called. You've got a visitor coming up."  
A visitor? Who in the world could it be?

  
Yaoyorozu looked intrigued. "Oh, do you know anyone in Tokyo?" she asked you.

  
You shook your head, giving Aizawa a puzzled look. "Did they say who it was?"

  
He snorted, dropping with a grunt onto the leather couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Seemed he wasn't a foreigner to luxury. "They did but I'm not gonna ruin the surprise. Told me you weren't expecting him."

  
Him? What him did you know in Tokyo? Who would come and visit you at the tribute hotel--more important, who would even be allowed that sort of security clearance? The Commission was notoriously protective of their tributes and a very small select group of people were allowed contact before the games began...

  
Oh. Oh, it had to be. Who else could it possibly be?

  
A smile formed and tears began welling up both at once and you hurried over to the elevator doors, managing to get out, "You said he was coming up? I don't have to go down, do I?"

  
"No, he's coming. Just wait." Aizawa's voice was gruff but his tone was soft. "What other surprises you got up your sleeve? You shouldn't keep these sorts of secrets from your mentors, you know."

  
Everyone waited with bated breath, staring at the elevator doors. You stood directly in front of them shifting from foot to foot, occasionally swiping tears from your eyes before they could fall. You didn't want him to see you cry. You wanted to put on a brave face for him. Of course, you were sure you'd start crying eventually as, tough as he was, Izuku was a crybaby himself and his tears were infectious...

  
The elevator dinged, you could hear the stop mechanism creak and suddenly the doors were parting. Everyone in the room leaned forward, sans Aizawa who kept his interest contained to a subtle sideways glance. Your resolve not to burst into tears on site was thrown right out the floor-to-ceiling window as you came to face with none other than--

  
All Might. You were standing there about to break down sobbing in front of All Might.

  
"Well, look who it is!" His booming voice rang across the silent 32nd floor as bright blue eyes found yours, his permanent smile making your wobbly one falter. "It's me, of course! _I am here_! Haha!"

  
Not trying to be rude, you craned your neck to peer past him. He was such a big man--ginormous, actually--that there was the possibility that you just couldn't see someone behind him...

  
No. Nope, that was not the case. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours your hopes were dashed to pieces.

  
Izuku was no where to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Aizawa's backstory. Pretty sad, right? Well, just you wait lol


	4. Underdog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, it's the man of the hour himself... finally!
> 
> If beta-reading for this story would be up your alley, please message me!

All Might looked so kicked when you burst into tears that you put real effort into calming yourself down. It didn't help when he put a big, kind hand on your shoulder and said, uncharacteristically gentle, "It's all right, Miss Midoriya. You cry all you need, I don't mind."

  
The sobbing just escalated to your chagrin. Aizawa looked chagrined on his couch, Yaoyorozu was shedding silent tear herself and Ms. Midnight didn't look too thrilled. Iida was staring at All Might, then at you, and back again. He appeared confused.

  
All Might led you to the couch opposite Aizawa and had you sit down as you asked, voice wobbly, "Where's Izuku?"

  
All Might hesitated. "He's... He really wanted to come but the Commission wouldn't grant him clearance. I'm sorry."

  
"Not even with you vouching for him?" Aizawa sounded incredulous. He'd sat up, brow furrowed. "Are you serious?"

Now something seemed to dawn on Iida and he sat back, nodding to himself. He must have been perplexed over how you could possibly know All Might. But of course, Izuku was All Might's apprentice. Ah, that made sense.

  
"Well..." All Might drawled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Things get a little complicated when the person you're trying to get clearance for attempts to...take a swing at a Commission member."

  
Ms. Midnight choked on her wine. She'd already popped a bottle in the short time since you'd arrived at the hotel. "He _what_?"

  
"Are you serious?" Aizawa breathed but he looked more pleased than angry.

  
"I am," All Might answered quietly.

  
Yaoyorozu buried her face in her hands and Iida looked absolutely mortified. You didn't say anything, frozen on the couch with a fresh stream of tears dripping down your face. You knew Izuku wouldn't stand for this.

  
Finally, Aizawa asked, "Where is he now?"

  
You turned to look up at All Might, eyes searching. The fact that Izuku had tried to attack a Commissioner brought you both hope and terror. Hope because someone was out there fighting for you and terror because dissonance wasn't tolerated. It's why there were peace keepers, it's why the Hunger Games existed at all. Izuku wasn't here now so it was safe to assume he'd accomplished nothing more than pissing off the elites. All Might's eyes said you weren't far off, giving you reason to be afraid. You asked, "Is he okay?"

  
"Yes. They did not hurt him."

  
"Okay," you breathed, more tears falling. You wished they would stop. You hated looking so weak and pathetic.

  
"Aizawa, would you mind if I spoke to her alone for a moment?"

  
Aizawa bowed his head. "Of course. Come on, the rest of you. I'm starving." He led the others across the room to the far side where the kitchen was. He pulled up a holographic screen on the countertop and began demonstrating how to use it for Iida. You assumed he was ordering up food for the little party.

  
"Miss Midoriya," All Might said. His face had fallen even further, somehow, and he was looking at you with such sadness. You were startled to see his smile had disappeared. "Your brother wanted to tell you that he has every faith in you. He believes you can pull it through these Games and he promised he'll be the first person to greet you off the train when you get home."

  
You had been silently crying since All Might arrived and you continued to as he spoke.

  
"He would give anything to get you out of this, he would, but there's ultimately nothing that can be done. I would do anything to get you out--" Water welled up at the corners of his eyes. "--I would give everything I have to save you but not even I have that much sway with the Commission. I am so sorry... Here." He pulled something from a pocket on his suit and placed it in your hand. "Young Midoriya asked that I give you this."

  
It was a folded peice of paper with small, neat handwriting addressing it to you. It was sealed with a scrap of tape, telling you it had been put together in a hurry. Izuku was usually more thoughtful than a shred of Scotch tape.

  
"I haven't read it," All Might told you. "But I hope it brings you courage. I want you to know that I have faith in you, too." His eyes were bright and earnest, pleading almost.

"Being quirkless isn't a death sentence. You can win the Games, too."

  
You wanted to moan that he didn't understand, no one did, but you refrained. You'd cried enough in the last twenty-four hours as things stood.

  
He clasped your shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. "Please believe me. You can win." He remained for a long moment then let out a weary sigh. "I'm sorry but I can't stay for too long. The Commission's already on my tail as it is and they only granted me this clearance because I made my case in front of the media. I need to speak to Aizawa for a second and then I have to go."

  
You watched him walk towards the others now welcoming an entourage of The 501 valets laden with another three course meal just like on the train. All Might's shoulders seemed to droop and his steps were lethargic. His voice had dropped to such a gentle baritone the longer he'd spoken. His lack of a smile had, in fact, frightened you. Never before had you seen the great All Might, Japan's number one hero and golden boy, the man who never lost a fight, look so beaten.

  
It didn't inspire hope. It just made you feel more prominently the vanity of your situation. No one could help you, not All Might or Izuku. You were all on your sorry, futile, quirkless lonesome.

  
The distance between you on your couch and the others now gave physical allusion to that sentiment. You watched All Might pull Aizawa away, Ms. Midnight inserting herself into their conversation, while Yaoyorozu and Iida tried to make sense of the immense amount of food steaming on the quarter mile of counter space. Just how much had Aizawa ordered?

  
All Might left with a final, forlorn smile at you. You could tell his heart wasn't in it, that perhaps his heart was breaking. Izuku was okay, he'd said, but you assumed he meant physically. Mentally, you were certain Izuku was a wreck. Seeing his apprentice like that and being unable to remedy his pain was likely tearing him apart.

  
Yaoyorozu was the one who urged you to eat. "You need to keep your strength up. You're better fed than most people in Ao but putting on a bit of weight wouldn't hurt."

  
You were lean despite Izuku's stipend and the extra rations it afforded you. You never went hungry anymore, as he'd promised you wouldn't when you were twelve, but there was no opportunity for gluttony.

  
"Why so much food?" you asked, tipping your chin at the dishes still left over. There must be enough to feed fifteen more people.

  
Iida looked down at his feet in embarrassment. "Aizawa was teaching me to use the holosheet and I'm afraid that I... went overboard."

  
"What's this?" you asked, poking your chopsticks into a thick cream with chunks of some strange fruit and vegetables. There were little black seeds suspended throughout that kept getting stuck in your teeth.

  
"I... maybe the lime ginger medley?" he offered.

  
"That's the saffron poppy horticulture," Ms. Midnight corrected. "Excellent taste, Iida, if a little excessive."

  
It was as you were picking through a heavy cranberry-and-marmalade desert that Yaoyorozu let out a yelp of surprise.

  
Everyone's heads snapped up at once, Aizawa and Iida from the television playing old anime reruns, Ms. Midnight from fixing her nails from this morning's little station fiasco, to find Yaoyorozu at one of the windows with a hand to her heart in fright. On the other side of the glass was a figure that was barely illuminated in by the city thirty-two stories below. Whatever it was, it was wide and bobbed up and down as if it were...was it flapping giant wings?

  
"Oh, my god," Aizawa growled, turning obstinately back to an episode of Naruto.

  
Iida couldn't tear his eyes away from the floating figure, his brows raised in shock. "Aizawa, is that--"

  
"It is," Ms. Midnight snipped, flicking her wrists to try and expediate her nails drying as she got up and approached. "Don't get too excited, though. He's not as cool as he plays himself up to be on the news." The fact that she could open the windows surprised you to the point of making a small noise. Wasn't the Commission afraid of someone jumping?

  
You watched in removed fascination as the figure on the other side of the glass exclaimed cheerily, "Well, if it isn't Midnight! How're you doing? Glad to see you!"

  
"Likewise, Hawks," Ms. Midnight grumbled but you could hear a lighter note in her tone. She wasn't that disappointed to see him. "Let me guess--you came to get a sneak peek before the games begin?"

  
"As per usual," he laughed and gave her wink. "What, are you gonna tell me to piss off this year?"

  
Ms. Midnight had her arms crossed over her chest and she didn't respond to him for a good beat. Then she tossed her hair and stepped to one side, allowing him to see past her. "Actually, no. I think you might like District Ao's prospects this time around. Go ahead, take a look."

  
Hawks was Japan's number three in the overall charts and number one in the popularity polls. The fastest man alive they called him. Women considered him cream of the crop and he was a notorious heart breaker--whose hearts he broke, no one knew. There was no identifiable trail of ex-girlfriends, no mistresses anyone could name. He was a bit hard to see in the dark--the city's glow didn't fare too well this high up--but you could see enough despite the reflection off the glass. You knew who he was, could put a name to his face, but you couldn't say you were a huge fan. Casual, maybe, but your favorites list was limited to just about Izuku and All Might.

  
"...Are you gonna call 'em over here, or...?"

  
"No, I think you can see well enough from there," Ms. Midnight huffed. "They aren't animals, Hawks, they're people. I'm not going to parade them around for you."

  
He gave her a sardonic smile. "I wasn't asking you to, it's just that you've got all your lights turned down--which I appreciate, thank you--but I can't see that great."

  
"What? Hawk wings and no eyes to match?" Aizawa shot at him. He was projecting quite a bit of hostility. "You can see them well enough from where they're at. Here's our girl--" He pointed at you then to Iida. "--and the boy."

  
Hawks squinted and cupped his hands around his eyes every which way as he tried to get a better look. You kept sat at your spot on the couch, fully visible to him, and watched. What you couldn't understand was why he didn't come any closer to the window. He was hanging in the air about two yards out, a good open space between him and the glass.

  
Suddenly Aizawa's voice was next to your ear, "If I were you, I'd get up and let him see me. He's a horrendously generous sponsor and he loves betting on the underdog."

  
You shot him a pensive look and he shrugged. "I'm not gonna force you, just suggesting."

  
You turned back to Hawks, torn now. It was important, maybe life-or-death important, that you obtain sponsors but at the same time this situation was humiliating. You didn't want to show yourself off like livestock at an auction. Like Ms. Midnight said, you were a human being.

  
But before you could push yourself to stand and approach, Hawks was rubbing his chin and giving Ms. Midnight the most persuasive puppy eyes imaginable.

  
"I know what you're probably going to say, I know, but I don't suppose you might possibly consider maybe just telling me what their--"

  
"Absolutely not!"

  
This was Yaoyorozu. She had looked sour but stayed quiet the entire interaction, sans her yelp when she'd first spotted Hawks. She was glaring at him now, visibly upset. "It's bad enough that you're here getting a look at tributes before the Games--we are absolutely not going to reveal their quirks to you! That is confidential and you have no right to that information, especially not before everyone else!"

  
"Oh, come on, don't you know me?" He was directing a warm smile her way. "I'm not gonna tell anyone, I swear. I'm a betting man, I just like to put my money on the--"

  
"No! That is _it_! No!" Yaoyorozu snarled, getting to her feet. She looked intimidating for a slender woman weighing no more than one-thirty, ponytail trembling in anger, but Hawks just grinned.

  
"--on the underdog. You gotta let me finish, babe. I'm a betting man who puts his money on the _underdog_. Now--" He crossed his ankles, bobbing up a bit higher than he had been. He looked totally at ease. "Why would you withhold information on someone's quirk if it was powerful? What was that? Oh, that's right, there'd be no reason. I can already guess his quirk--" He motioned towards Iida who still looked like an awkward duck. "--but the girl... Lovedove, mind at least givin' me a hint?"

  
You glared at him, definitely not inclined to stand up now. His tone and the pet name pissed you the wrong way.

  
"Aw, c'mon. I know you're the one they must be talking about. How bad is it? If you tell me, I promise I'll--"

  
"Hawks, be quiet," Ms. Midnight suddenly hissed.

  
"Yeah, we've got friendlies on floor 31 and 34 but 33's got District Ki on it," Aizawa growled, giving Hawks a glare that probably yearned for the ability to disable mutant type quirks. "Shut your damn mouth. God, I always forget how much you like to talk. You're almost as bad as All Might."

  
"Oh, please. Ki's got Edgeshot on it, right? He's not gonna turn me in."

  
"It's not about turning you in. I couldn't care less. But I don't want anyone overhearing you, getting ideas and targeting my kids."

  
"Oh, your kids? That's so sweet, Aizawa. Seriously, though, is either of these a good bet? I gotta know, quick. There's places I gotta get to and this is honestly the last place I should be."

  
You felt the hair on the back of your neck rise, a wave of goosebumps running up your arms, as Hawks locked eyes with you. You'd been glaring at him in distaste for the last few minutes but now you felt your cheeks going red as you realized you'd been caught. It was the thought that, 'I don't need to be afraid of him. He's the least of my problems,' that allowed you to maintain eye contact despite your discomfort. Something in that golden gaze, something behind the humor and gleam, made you uneasy.

  
Ms. Midnight seemed about done with Hawks. "Give it a rest, you stupid chicken. We've all got enough on our plates--especially these two kids!--without you running your mouth like a damn faucet. If you need to go, that's great. Get going."

  
But Aizawa seemed to pause a moment. No, he was _hesitating_.

  
"I wish she had more on her plate," he growled, tipping his chin at you. His face was drawn, expression dark. He looked irritated. "If she had a bit more on her plate, we might have a bit of a--"

  
"We have all got plenty enough on all our plates! We do _not_ need _anything else_!" Yaoyorozu suddenly interrupted, voice pitched and forceful. She was giving Aizawa a calm look that mismatched her tone.

  
They stared each other down for a good eight seconds and someone would need to be either blind or stupid not to recognize the depth of tension suffocating the room. Hawks was neither. He caught onto it even through an open window.

  
"That useless, huh?" he asked you. His eyes, in a blink, went from that unease-inducing glitter to sympathetic. The switch itself somehow made you more unsettled. "I'm real sorry, kid. Real sorry, that's gotta just be tough."

  
"Her quirk is none of your concern," Yaoyorozu said, turning on him now. She was bristling with anger. "Quirks are best not spoiled, right? You'll find out during the Games just like everyone else. Now go on, I don't know why you think you get special access just because you can fly. This is illegal."

  
"Goodbye, Hawks," Aizawa growled. There was no hesitation anymore.

  
"Yes, get going," Ms. Midnight told him.

  
"Well, I'm keeping my hopes up," Hawks laughed, saluting Iida. "You know, maybe this'll be it--Ao's lucky year. We did just have a blue moon recently, you know?"

  
" _Goodbye_ , _Hawks_ ," Aizawa snarled.

  
His laughter was cut short as Ms. Midnight slammed the window shut, locking it with a snap. With that, Hawks disappeared into your own reflection staring back at you from the glass. You'd been quiet nearly the whole interaction--in fact you hadn't said a word to him at all--but now you found yourself saying to Aizawa, "Well? I'm the best underdog out there. You think he'll sponsor me?"


	5. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another doozy-long chapter. Couldn't break it up, though, soo...  
> Enjoy~
> 
> If you're interested in beta-reading for this story, please message me! I'd love to have an editor to catch all these mistakes I find after I post the darn chapters!

The rest of the night was spent heated to say the least.

  
Aizawa started chuckling at your question, responding with, "I think he just might. He might, kid, and if he does you're set."

  
"Really?" you asked.

  
"That idiot's got money to burn. He's got so much money a healthy cocaine addiction couldn't spend it all."

  
But then Yaoyorozu was pointing an accusing finger, snapping, "How could you? That was the one thing-- _the one thing_ \--we shouldn't have let slip and you threw it right in his face."

  
First Aizawa laughed gently. "Yeah, I really had to spoon feed it to him. He is a complete moron." But then he held up his hands in an effort to remedy her temper. "Momo, it was a logical play of cards. He's into underdogs, we've got an underdog and she needs sponsors. There's no way around that. If she can just get ahold of him, she's got herself made."

  
"What about him? Have you completely forgotten about Tenya?" Yaoyorozu growled. She gestured towards said boy who adjusted his glasses, uncomfortable as ever.

  
"I haven't fogotten. I'm just trying to come up with something, anything at all, for our little quirkless problem over here. Iida's got much better odds on his own, let's be honest."

  
"Oh, yes. Honest. I think you've been too honest tonight, Aizawa. And you--" Now she rounded on Ms. Midnight who'd plopped back onto the couch to sip her wine. It was Ros _é_ , pale pink and very expensive in a polished crystal glass. "--you aren't being honest enough! Why did you open the window? Why did you even let him hang around, you should have sent him packing as soon as you saw him."

  
Ms. Midnight shrugged nonchalantly. She didn't seem bothered about the animosity rolling off the female Ao victor in static waves. "He always comes around, it's no big deal. Everyone knows he does it." She tipped her glass, watching the wine swirl. "Even if he did get caught, I doubt anyone would get in trouble. He's Hawks, he does what he likes."

  
"Yes, he's the Comission's golden child," Aizawa reminded Yaoyorozu. "He gets away with just about anything. The public loves him too much for him to take any flack from the brass. Except maybe for... No, actually, for him I don't think murder's off the table."

  
"He doesn't get get by with it when it comes to the Games," Yaoyorozu insisted, looking distraught. "Nothing gets by when it comes to the Games. You shouldn't let him get away with it, we should have called security--something!"

  
"Momo, you need to calm down," Aizawa said and there was a little force in his voice. "Look, it happened and we played along. I think we got more out of it than he did." He cast a glance your way. "Let's just count it as a win and move on."

  
Yaoyorozu frowned imporingly. "You can't be serious. That wasn't a win, that was cheating on his part. And also, who turned the lights down for him? I didn't even see anyone move!"

  
"That was me," Ms. Midnight said. She gestured towards a remote tucked beneath her elbow. "I doubt he'll get caught and I doubt anything will happen if he does but it's never stupid to play it safe."

  
"You know that was wrong. He might do whatever he wants but we shouldn't be covering for him."

  
"I know the _Commission_ thinks it's wrong," Ms. Midnight corrected. She raised the wine to her lips and took a sip. "Personally, I think what he's doing is morally ambiguous. The Commission--and let's be adults here, sorry in advance everyone--likes to kill kids and the rest of us just have to deal with it. Look at it this way: he's just a betting man looking at a bad situation and trying to help out the one who pulled the shortest straw. And we sure as hell pulled a short straw this year so..." She swirled her glass in emphasis, encouraging Yaoyorozu to make the logical connection.

  
But she kept frowning. "It's still illegal."

  
"...so it's a win," Ms. Midnight finished herself and sighed deeply, rubbing her temple. "Sweet thing, we've been doing this for several years together now. I don't see how you can keep up the right-and-wrong act when you cry to me every single night on our trips over these poor kids."

  
"He didn't come around last time," Yaoyorozu insisted.

  
"He did, he was just more discreet," Aizawa chimed in gruffly. "I don't know what's gotten into him this year. That was pretty ballsy even for him."

  
"Do his tributes win often?" you piped up. "I mean, the ones that he sponsors. Does he help them enough to win?"

  
Everyone turned towards you, Aizawa giving you a tentative half-grimace. "Well, he honestly hasn't been doing this for that long--only two Games so far. He's only twenty-two and the legal betting age is eighteen. He did shell out... God, I think he might have hit a billion last time. I know he was in several hundred million yen."

  
"But do his tributes win?" you repeated.

  
Everyone averted their eyes.

  
"None yet but you know what they say," Ms. Midnight said holding up three fingers, "Third time's the charm."

  
"I think we should report him," Iida said suddenly. Now all stares were on him.

"Yes," Yaoyorozu agreed, stepping closer to put a hand on his shoulder. "This isn't right. None of it, not the Games or anything to do with them, but there are still rules. That was an unfair advantage."

  
"On whose part?" Aizawa asked, narrowing his eyes.

  
"On everyone's part," Yaoyorozu said.

  
He scoffed at her. "Come on, Momo, you can't be serious. We have a quirkless tribute this year and you're talking about unfair advantages?"

  
"I am," Yaoyorozu said but her voice was softer. "I understand we're in a tight spot with a quirkless tribute but Tenya has no sponsors and--"

  
"We're not in a tight spot, _she_ is," Aizawa growled, rising to his feet. For a man on the smaller end of the spectrum, he had a daunting aura. Maybe it was the all-black getup. "And he'll get sponsors as soon as he gets a little airtime. He was reaped yesterday, not even I can drum up support that damn fast."

  
"You did for her." Yaoyorozu held her ground.

  
"I got lucky," Aizawa said lowly, "That a certain someone, maybe her only shot in all of Tokyo, happened to stop by. That's why she's got her one and only sponsor."

  
"I think you need to remember you're mentoring two tributes here, not just one," Yaoyorozu persisted.

  
"I know that," Aizawa seethed.

  
"Please don't fight," Iida interrupted, stepping between them with his arms out. He looked on the edge of frantic. "Forget what I said, let's just go to bed. Aizawa's right, I'll get sponsors once I'm in training or interviews. This isn't about sponsors, though, it's about doing what's ri--"

  
"Everyone relax," Ms. Midnight said, joining Iida as the heavy aroma of lavendar began filling this end of the room. You thought you might have seen pale purple roils of some sort of smoke, the the faintest smoke you'd ever seen, curling in her wake. Immediately, your eyelids began growing heavy and the tension which held your body like a spring began to loosen.

  
Ms. Midnight caught Iida before he could fall as he was hit with the brunt of her quirk while Aizawa tipped himself backwards into the couch and Yaoyorozu gripped the chair she was standing behind. They both looked sleepy but hadn't stopped glaring at each other.

  
"I think we've all had a long day and we're ready for bed," Ms. Midnight said kindly, leaning Iida onto a shoulder and pulling up the mesh sleeve she'd opened to let out her quirk. "We should rest up and get back to it in the morning. We all have a big day ahead of us." She smiled over at you. "You two are going to meet your stylists and participate in the opening parade--I'll come back and get you in a minute, dear, let me put him up first. And you two--" She glanced betwen the two mentors. "--are going to start working on training regimes and sponsorship rosters for both your tributes. Good night, everyone. No sleeping on the couch, Shouta."

  
You spent thirty minutes lying in bed the next morning, staring at the ceiling. Your room was as plush as you had expected with your very own massive bathroom, jacuzzi tub, and a shower with so many settings you felt a little overwhelmed. You found a holosheet on the nightstand that you tentatively poked through, initiating a scent emanating mechanism that made the room smell like cinnamon cider. It reminded you of your candle which you pulled out of your duffel and that reminded you of Izuku's notebooks which reminded you of Izuku's note.

  
You'd contemplated opening it and reading it last night but in the end decided to save it for tomorrow. You'd have enough of today and felt a fresh start would be best.

  
Now you held it, running your fingers over the creases over and over. Izuku's handwriting had always spawned a spark of jealousy within you, so neat and concise. Yours was sloppy, very un-ladylike, by comparison. He'd laughed when you'd said this to him, informing you, "You've got a doctor's signature. You're going places, unlike me."

  
Izuku underestimated himself to the utmost degree. All Might's apprentice, traveling Japan at only fourteen--he was a legend already. You were the one going nowhere. The only thing you had left to do was get into this arena and die. No doctor's license for you.

  
You drew in a deep breath, taking the plunge and unwrapping the note. The paper was fresh and crisp as if it hadn't been pondered over very long. That must be the case because inside Izuku's penmanship had gone to hell. Dark, angry scratches read, "I'm so sorry. I didn't think this was possible. DID YOU TAKE TESSERAE? It doesn't matter anymore if you did. I'm sending this with All Might because I want to say something illegal. BURN THIS NOTE AS SOON AS YOU READ IT. NOTHING'S going to happen to you, I SWEAR. I'll tear Tokyo apart if anything happens to you and the Commission knows it. I told them I would. This is all so backwards. How can we call ourselves a society of heroes when we send kids off to die like this? How can I call myself a hero if I can't even save my own sister? If I can't do anything else, I'll make sure you stay alive. TRUST ME. I love you."

  
Your blood had run cold as you reread it for the second time and again for the third. You'd almost couldn't imagine such a furious, hellbent message had been written Izuku. Was this really the same boy who wanted to protect and serve the citizens of Japan? He promised he'd save you but at what cost? Was he really willing to hurt people in order to save you?

  
You wondered if that was heroic. You felt as if you wanted more heroes to act this way--Izuku was the only one standing up for you. He was right, in a society of heroes he was the only one who was trying to save you and it was ass-backwards.

  
For a moment, Hawks came to mind. He wasn't anything like Izuku as far as you could tell, way too blase and devil-may-care, a spoiled pet of the system perhaps, but was he trying to do the same thing in his own small way?

  
Izuku didn't make tons of money. It isn't as if he could fund the number or quality of gifts you'd need to get you through the Games. Hawks seemed to like making himself a thorn in the Commission's side and you saw no reason not to capitalize on that. You didn't feel bad for using him to pull through this.

  
You went down to breakfast as Ms. Midnight knocked insistently on your door a third time, threatening to walk in if you weren't out in two minutes. You dressed in a plain deep blue outfit that had been laid out for you. It was skin-tight and revealed far more than you were used to. District clothes, made for durability and all about the same size for utility, hung off you in comparison. Perhaps this is what Ms. Midnight had meant when she said District clothes were quaint. You'd been seeing Tokyo celebrities on TV for years wearing these same revealing clothes and you'd dismissed it as just weird. It was ten times weirder now, looking down at your legs and torso, to be in them yourself.

  
Breakfast was relatively simple compared to your last two meals. Omelettes with peppers, rice, some miso soup that left you feeling toasty and satisfied. Not too much.

  
"I want you to be able to keep your food down today," Aizawa had explained. "So I ordered something light. Don't want you getting nervous and throwing it all up later. Today's gonna be a bit of a ride."

  
"What day hasn't been?" you growled at your milk.

  
"If you thought lounging around in a train was bad, you might not make it through today," Aizawa told you.

  
"Hey, speaking of not making it, why did Hawks hang so far back from the window last night?" you asked. "He kept complaining about not being able to see but he was staying about... six feet away from the glass. Why?"

  
"There's a force field surrounding the building," Ms. Midnight said. Then, more gentle, "It works to keep people out and in. That window may as well be a wall as far as climbing through it's concerned."

  
Ah. That's why she was able to open it. Jumping from the upper floors of The 501 would be an easy, painless way to go and a few tributes might be tempted to try it every year. Of course, the Commission couldn't have that and had installed a barrier to keep them trapped. They weren't going to let someone die on their own terms.

  
"It would have been funny if he'd run into the force field," Aizawa snickered. "I've heard it gives you a zap and sends you flying back a good few yards. Would have liked to see birdbrains looking like an idiot instead of just being one for once."

  
Yaoyorozu was clearing everyone's dishes, saying briskly, "If we're all done, I suggest we get you two down to the stylist center as soon as possible. They've got a lot of...work to do." She trailed off on the end bit, blushing a little in embarrassment.

  
Iida tried to cover for her, picking at his chin and saying, "I haven't been able to shave since the reaping. I'm sure I look a bit shaggy."

  
She smiled gratefully at him. You felt something had clicked between the two last night when they both took up the side of turning Hawks in. They got each other, you thought, they made sense to one another.

  
This thought made you slide your gaze to Aizawa who was playing with a toothpick on his tongue. You'd felt as if the two of you had synced in the short span of your knowing him. He was straightforward, he wasn't particularly excited to be here. You could relate. It put you at ease, feeling like you had someone on your team who got you.

  
Yaoyorozu decided that she would accompany you and Iida to the stylist center while Aizawa was slated to spend some time sifting out preliminary training regiments. For this, he had the two of you fill out a series of basic questions that gauged your knowledge of weapons, poisons, plants, animals, fighting capabilities and field medicine.

  
"I know it's generic but I need something to start with," he said.

  
Iida looked concerned, asking, "Is this a finalized thing once you finish? Do you have a deadline to turn it in?"

  
"I do have a deadline tomorrow morning at 8 AM," Aizawa answered, "Which is when you'll begin your first of three training days. I want to get a rough idea worked out today while you guys get this parade over with then we can talk about it when you get back to the hotel tonight."

  
"Yes, so be very honest on the questions," Yaoyorozu chimed in, peering at your papers a little anxiously. "They had tight schedules for each tribute based on what our mentors turned in when I was in your shoes and I doubt it's changed. You want to be able to work on what you're least skilled at so don't hold back."

  
Aizawa seemed to lose himself in thought a moment. "I think I remember putting you down for lots of medicinal and toxin training. Am I remembering right?"

  
"Yes," Yaoyorozu said with some surprise. She gave him a warm smile. "I can't make live things, like plants, but if I knew if I understood the chemical composition of their toxins I could make those instead."

  
"That was your saving grace more than once, wasn't it?" Aizawa asked softly.

  
Yayorozu's face took on a forlorn expression and she tilted her head away. With a voice laden with sorrow, she answered, "Yes, unfortunately it was."

  
The tension between your mentors from last night was completely gone. They hadn't even still be caught in it when they'd first woken up. It had already melted away to nothing and, watching them now, you thought there might be so much history here that there was little one could do that the other wouldn't forgive.

  
One thing you noted, it seemed as if Floor 32 wasn't turning in Hawks. Since you'd been given time to warm up to the idea of him being your sponsor, you were grateful.

  
There was another hustle to a car identical to the one that had brought you here yesterday. The elevator ride was just as fast and miserable down as it was up. In the lobby, you caught sight of another pair of kids accompanying two adults who you recognized from past Hunger Games. Were they... District Gin? It was one of the wealthier districts and it showed in the numerous bands and clasps that gilded the quad's arms and ankles. Districts had minor cultural angles that set them apart; in District Ao, it was considered Tokyo lapdogging to wear excessive jewelry that made you jangle while walking. Of course, most people in Ao couldn't afford jewelry to begin with.

  
The boy tribute stood out to you. It was your first real look at one of your opponents--you still were trying not to think of Iida that way--and the sight of him made your heart sink. He was tall and, although not built, he was lean in a very fit, healthy way. Tight muscles rippled from his skin-tight suit, gray as opposed to your blue, and his face was set in a frown, In an uncomfortable moment, you caught eyes and you almost blanched when he started and turned his face to the side, looking pointedly at a wall. He was blushing in embarrassment.

  
Oh. Well, if he was that easy to fluster maybe you did stand a chance.

  
The stylist center was just as over-the-top and grandiose as The 501. It was a whole damn arena, a massive neon side proclaiming it the 'Wash Wash Event Center.' A smaller neon logo with the wash hero Wash's logo of a washing machine with eyes was hung to the side. The front entrance was had poles stuck all along the front. From each of these there hung about fifteen different coils of globe lights that flashed in time to the music playing over speakers somewhere on the roof. Another high chain link fence surrounded it, just like the hotel, with barbed wire looped over top. Tokyo citizens milled around the perimeter and you could see food trucks and other token outdoor market booths set up on the surrounding streets running north and south.

  
Your car parked behind three of a kind and, with a little shiver, you realized some of the tributes must already be here.

  
"Don't worry, you'll have your own private section of the building," Yaoyorozu reassured you, appearing to read your mind. "You probably won't even see another District's tributes today, let alone get close enough to be in any danger."

  
"How long will this take?" you asked, weary already. You'd never had your hair or makeup done professionally. You'd never even had a day at a spa. As far as you knew, there weren't any in Distrit Ao.

  
"The parade starts at six-thirty tonight," Iida said. "So I assume this will take through lunch into the afternoon. They have to do alterations on our outfits, too, on top of our cosmetics."

  
You nudged him, puzzled. "How did you know that? Were you a fan of the Games before all...well, all this?" You laughed half-heartedly, trying to make a very not-humorous situation a bit lighter.

  
He gave you a small frown in return. "The event pamphlet they left for us in our rooms. Did you not look at yours?"

  
You'd spent an hour staring at the ceiling last night before crying yourself to sleep as Ms. Midnight's quirk wore off. You'd spent another thirty minutes this morning staring at the ceiling fretting over Izuku's note. You couldn't even recall anything lying on the dresser or your bed.

  
"I didn't," you said. Why was he looking at you funny? "Why? Is there something I need to know--"

  
Iida was really frowning now. "Well, yes, they've decided to try something new this year and--"

  
"Holy crap, holy crap! Oh, it's so nice to see you again, Momo!"

  
"Hello, Mina," Yaoyorozu said sweetly and opened her arms to envelope this bouncy pink figure dressed in clashing purples-and-teals into a hug. 

  
The pink woman, Mina, pulled away after a second to laugh airily. "Well, I guess it's not good to see you but you know, I'll take what I can get. Oh, it's been so lonely since last time. I never get to talk to anyone who just gets me, you know?"

  
"I'm sure it's difficult," Momo said and motioned for you and Iida to fall in behind her as she and Mina led the way under the globe lights into the massive building.  
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a much more demure, quieter figure trailing along after you. Incredibly enough, he was dressed even more bizarrely than Mina in her triple-layered skirts, long tiger-striped jacket in clashing colors, rings of all hues on each finger. This man was tall and blonde and wore a glittery indigo cape that wafted behind him in the cool breeze. The rest of his outfit seemed to be made of flexible metal; it caught the light every which was as he walked.

  
The interior of the arena was disappointing compared to the outside. Clean, safe neutral colors and a tile floor that was spotless. The walls were made of stalwart cement painted so thick some drops had dried before they'd fallen. It gave things an almost melted feel if you stopped to look closely. The entrance opened to a long hallway that stretched in either direction, curving inward so that you couldn't see terribly far. Food courts and restrooms alternated every so often as Mina lead the way, chatting all the while.

  
"Did you know Wash built this with his own money?" Iida whispered to you. He seemed to have forgotten about the pamphlet already which inclined you to believe it couldn't be that terribly important. He also hadn't mentioned Hawks at all today and you were glad he was content to let it slide following Yaoyorozu's lead.

  
What he'd said last night had stung--you were quirkless and you needed sponsors if you wanted any shot at survival--but you kept telling yourself he'd been in favor of ratting out Hawks because he thought it was the right thing to do. He probably didn't want all of you to get in trouble as Hawks' accomplices or something. He did want you to have sponsors but not at the cost of the Commission's wrath.

  
"No. Really?" You looked around, eyes catching on the next short flight of stairs that led upwards before doubling back. You'd passed several of these assumed they must lead to the arena itself.

  
"Yes. It cost nearly three trillion yen. Isn't that crazy?"

  
"I wish I had that much money," you mumbled, staring into space as you walked.

  
Iida tipped his glasses at you. "You know, if you've got Hawks as your sponsor, you might as well have that much money. I'm sure he makes more than Wash does."

  
That made you perk up. "Yeah, but... I'd like to spend it on things I actually want. Like, not-Games things," you said, feeling sheepish. Was it childish to whine about your sorry lot in life to someone who'd been dealt the same bad hand? You were both going to the arena.

  
"I know what you mean," Iida admitted. He seemed to lose himself in his head for a moment. "I'd buy a car. I know I have engine legs but cars are so... Well, I just think they're cool. Trains, too, I couldn't believe how fast we were going the other day. What would you buy?"

  
"A house," you said immediately. "I'd buy a house for me and my mom. Our apartment's nice but I've always wanted a nice kitchen and a big yard for my dog." You shook your head. "I could give up the nice kitchen if I could just have the yard, actually. Somewhere to plant a garden. Something that's mine."

  
"Oh, do you garden?" he asked, intrigued.

  
"No, I don't have a yard."

  
"Ah, yeah. Duh. Any window plants? Do you have a balcony for potted ones?"

  
"I keep a few but I want to give them more room. They've never gotten very big."

  
"There it is!" Mina's voice suddenly cut through your conversation, echoing down the hall in either direction. "Section forty-five, finally. Geez, I wasn't sure we were ever gonna find out way back. Hey, it _was_ forty-five, right? Aoyama?"

  
She'd turned to look back at the man in the faux metal outfit and cape who had yet to say a word. And he still didn't as he gave her a nodding smile.

  
"Great! Well, come on! You're right, Momo, we have a lot of work to do, haha. Oh, don't feel bad, none of the Districts live up to Tokyo's crazy dumb standards. Not even the rich ones like Ki or Garudo."

  
You had managed to keep a neutral looked fixed to your face but you weren't sure it was going to stay or long. She was so bright and bouncy and bubbly. Did she not realize she was going to be styling you up for your twin debut and swan song that began tonight?

  
You weren't letting yourself dwell on the parade. You'd watched it for years on TV but actually being in it, with all the outlandish outfits and the thousands of gaudy Tokyo spectators screaming while you nailed on a fake look of elation and took it, was going to make you sick if you thought about it too long. You silently thanked Aizawa for having the foresight to keep breakfast light this morning.

  
The parade was the first time that Tokyo would get a good, polished look at you. You'd no longer be in an isolated reaping in a district far away but here and close and personal on display with the rest of your tribute opponents. Sponsors would be out in droves tonight, eyeing this Games' offerings and filling out their favorites' list.

  
As you were allocated to Mina and followed her into your own individual styling room, away from Iida and Yaoyorozu, you let yourself think about the parade for just a moment.

You wondered if you'd see some bright red wings somewhere in that sea of spectators, a pair of piercing golden eyes locking onto yours. He'd probably be there, he seemed like a big player in the betting ring and the parade was the official launch of the gambling side of the Games.

  
The idea of him made you uneasy but you steeled yourself to it. He might just be your only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he'll be back next chapter, i promise...!


	6. The Snow Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested! Please, help me avoid all these typos!

Mina knew how to talk. She wasn't boring, per se, but she talked your ear off all throughout the initial two hour block she'd slated to work on you. Her first order of business had been your hair. It wasn't terrible, she told you, but it was plain. District plain. Again, she added, "Don't worry, no District style stands up to the people in Tokyo. Have you seen some of the crazy things they come up with? You couldn't drag me outside my house if that's how my hair looked!"

  
Mina looked interesting enough already. There were enough quirk-induced hybrids, usually seen in families tracing quirks back to relatively distant ancestors, in District Ao that her pink skin and black sclera didn't throw you off much but they were still interesting to look at. Honestly, you thought her gold irises were made all the more luxurious against her otherwise dark eyes.

  
A twenty minute break came around ten which allowed you a moment to escape into the bathroom for some solitude. Again, Mina was nice but she was a bit of a lot. It occurred to you how odd it was, however, that she kept referring to Tokyo citizens in a way that didn't include herself. It seemed as though she thought of them as 'other.'

  
You found out why after she resumed for another hour-and-a-half session before lunch. Now she was starting to wax and shave. Apparently, Tokyo considered it unsanitary to have any body hair save what was on your head.

  
"Oh! So I've been meaning to ask, how is the little downtown bakery doing these days? The one on the corner with the bright pink awnings? Do they still have those? I hope so, they always made me happy when I saw them."

  
You were grimacing as she pulled another wax strip from your leg so you didn't register what she was saying for a second. Then you wondered, how did she know there was a corner bakery in downtown Ao? Wait, _saw them_?

  
"You've been to District Ao?" you asked, surprised.

  
Mina started laughing at you. "You goose, of course I have! I grew up there! Have you not been paying attention or have I just been talking to a brick wall? Haha!"

  
She didn't seem offended, not really, and you had been paying attention. Not wanting her to think she'd been ignored all morning, you said, "You keep referring to Tokyo sort of weird, like you aren't part of it or something, so I thought maybe you were from a District or another country." You looked at your hands. "I didn't think you were from District Ao, though."

  
"Well, it's been a long time since I moved here. Well, I didn't really move here but... Alright, here we go again. Wait for it...now!" She ripped free another wax strip. You grit your teeth and told yourself not to complain. Never in your life would you voluntarily have this done to yourself.

  
Before you could ask what she meant about not moving, the man in the metal outfit and cape suddenly appeared beside your reflection in the brightly lit mirror you were sat before. He was carrying something that took both arms and was covered in plastic that rustled as he walked. He was clearly afraid of dragging it on the ground.

  
"Miss Mina, the outfits just got back from the tailor," he said. His voice was light with a slight affect not terribly foreign to the heavy one Ms. Midnight drawled with. Seeing as Mina was from District Ao, it was entirely plausible that he could be a Tokyo immigrant as well. The faint accent sounded fake at worst, acquired at best.

  
"Ohh!" Mina squealed, abandoning her latest wax strip. This one was over your knee and upper thigh. She'd promised you it wouldn't take beyond three more and then you could break for lunch. Running your hands over your bare arms, your chin where she'd torn away your peach fuzz, you almost shivered at the smoothness. It was nice if painfully obtained.

  
"Oh, goodness, would you look at that! I knew she would be the seamstress to pull it off, I just knew--oh, wow! Here, let's rip off that strip and leave the others for later. After lunch, maybe. I want this on you. Now!"

  
A mass of soft white fabric was shoved into your arms as Mina simultaneously yanked off the knee strip, making you wheeze. Holy mother, that hurt! And you had more to look forward to after lunch?

  
"Out, out, Aoyama! I'll let you back in when it's on." Mina was ushering her partner out the door, closing it with a click as she spun back to you, kicking the plastic cover out of the way. "Okay, I'm betting you've never worn anything this fancy before so you just stand there and let me put it on for you, _capisce_?"

  
You did as asked, facing the mirror and looking anywhere but at your own reflection as Mina began going through the rigorous process of folding and tying up what turned out to be a very ornate, very beautiful snow white kimono. Eventually your wandering eyes found themselves glued to your reflection which, even without the makeup and hair styling, was somehow made breathtaking. The kimono managed to make you beautiful all by itself.

  
"All right, there!" Mina stepped back after tying the final knot, joining in admiring the mirror's reflection. "Oh, it's perfect. Just what I wanted. I can't believe she pulled this together in just three days. I mean, she told me she could but I didn't really believe..."

  
"It's the snow woman," you said suddenly, putting the pieces together. "The snow woman from the mountains."

  
Mina clapped her hands. "Yes! I'm so glad you knew what it was. I was worried about that, too."

  
The snow woman was a legendary figure of Japan, her origin dating back to before the split that divided the country into the fourteen districts and their capital city, Tokyo. The legend was most popular in the District Ao area where she was supposed to haunt the mountains beyond the border fence. She used to lure travelers to their frozen deaths as they traversed the passes, breathing snow into their lungs and putting them to eternal rest. Of course, she hadn't done that in over two hundred years. No one was permitted beyond the perimeter fence anymore.

  
You turned in a slow circle, craning you neck to keep your eyes on the reflection the entire time. The fabric was pure, unabashed white and filmy, almost translucent, sliding between your fingers like silk. You had one kimono that your mother kept strictly for very important events such as weddings. It was nowhere near the quality or beauty of this one. It didn't even compare. The obi around your waist was an icy blue. If you peered closely, you could see the same blue appearing as snowflakes along the bottom hem of the dress. They were so subtle that you nearly missed them.

  
"It's wonderful," you said quietly.

  
"Isn't it?"

  
You frowned. "You and I know the snow woman because we're from District Ao but will Tokyo recognize it, too?" If they didn't know who the snow woman was, it would seem you were just dressed in a lovely white kimono and the significance, the haunting menace of it, would be lost.

  
But Mina gave you a blinding smile. "Oh, don't you worry. The snow woman's gotten really popular in Tokyo since President Yukiha took power about five years ago. They're all over her now. The story's so popular that they've made more than one TV drama on it."

  
"Really?" You were a little surprised. The legend that had made you that much more wary of venturing beyond the border fence was a common, celebrated icon here in the capital. Who knew? "Why haven't I seen any tributes dressed like her before, then?"

  
"Isn't that the best part? I was the first one to think of it! Lucky me."

  
You could tell she was proud of herself so you smiled back. Her smile was sort of infectious anyway.

  
"Yeah, lucky you. And lucky me that you thought of it. I think that I--" You had never had your legs waxed or your hair so meticulously pinned and combed and trimmed and you'd never worn such a beautiful, luxurious item of of clothing that must cost a hundred thousand yen before in your life. You'd always been groomed and kept but you'd never thought much of your appearance beyond a good average. "--I look beautiful."

  
"No," Mina corrected, grabbing your hand in hers and giving it a pat, "You look breathtaking. You're stealing my breath away, help--!"

  
Aoyama nearly tripped over his own cape when his knocks were finally heard and he was permitted back into the room. He and Mina chattered to each other in awe, asking you to spin and curtsy, then they got a little more serious and asking if the fit felt nice, if you could move sufficiently.

  
"And how is your masterpiece looking?" Mina asked her partner.

  
Aoyama was all jibber-jabber now that he was at work. He'd been so quiet before. "He's _magnificque_ and waiting for us down the hall."

  
"You've had him waiting this whole time? Aoyama, you should have told me! Come on, let's go!" She took your hand and led you quickly out the door. It may have been a bit too quick for you, forced to shuffle in the narrow restriction of the kimono, because you nearly tripped.

  
Iida was seated on a plush velvet couch but stood as the three of you entered his dressing room. He had been given a mask to go with his outfit and you nearly laughed at the fact that he'd waited with it on.

  
Your stylists seemed to have coordinated together because Iida was also dressed in traditional Japanese wear. His primary color was blue, as expected of District Ao, and all but the _hakama_ was one shade of blue or another. The formal _haori_ was by far the most impressive article. Mina begged him to spin slowly for her, as you had, and it revealed an intricately embroidered scene of an ink painting-style wolf under a minimalist moon. As Mina asked him to pause so she could admire the artwork, you realized that the back of the wolf was ridged to form a line of mountains. Another District Ao legend.

  
"That's exactly what I would have asked for," she said softly, "If I'd given my seamstress at least two weeks to make it. Aoyama, who the hell did this? In three days?!"

  
"Four, actually," he said, smiling with his eyes closed. He looked like a preening bird. "I came up with the idea a long time ago and had the foresight to bring the sketches to my tailor a day early."

  
"That's illegal," Mina whisper-shouted, nudging him.

  
"I would risk my life for beauty," Aoyama told her, posing dramatically. "For what is life without it?"

  
"Well, I like the mask," Mina said, Iida facing you once again. "But I think the people need to be able to see his face. Especially the sponsors. Unless you plan on wearing that the whole time?"

  
It was a traditionally-styled wolf mask. The stripes that signified the mouth, two under the eyes and a circle on the forehead with slashes representing the different phases of the moon were all blue. Iida was peering out of the eye holes.

  
"I thought he could wear it properly for the parade then keep it to the top or side of his head for the interviews," Aoyama said, sounding a little uncertain. "Or we could make a token of it, a smaller version we could pin somewhere maybe?"

  
"I agree that he should wear it for the parade but I think keeping it on him somewhere would be best for the interviews," Mina said, tapping her chin. "A token might go unnoticed, you know?"

  
"How about a token for the arena?" Aoyama suggested.

  
"That would work. Yeah, that would be good." Mina suddenly snapped out of being sober, hopping back into it with a bubbly, "Who's ready for lunch? It's okra tempura today in the mess hall! Or that's what I hope it is."

  
"I told you it was," Aoyama said gently and they took the lead back out the door down to the cafeteria.

  
You and Iida stood giving each other awkward looks, the latter having pulled his mask down. Looking down at your magnificent white kimono, you couldn't imagine getting a food stain on it. You'd just been given it and it was for your debut to the world as an official tribute but if this gown somehow got ruined you might cry.

  
Then Mina was scrambling back into the room, Aoyama behind her. "Oh, crap. Here, let's get you guys out of this stuff. Don't want to spoil your grand entrance tonight, right?"

  
Little did she realize just how grand your entrance would be.

  
The rest of the day breezed by, surprisingly, and although Mina had to perform several more unpleasant tasks to make you "presentable to the weird Tokyo crowd" you enjoyed your time with her. Knowing she was from District Ao lent a sense of camaraderie to the ordeal. Of all the millions of people in Tokyo, Mina was one of the few who had an inkling of just what you'd left behind. The clusters of wild plants along the perimeter fence, the little candle shop downtown that always smelled so good, the whisper of wind through the pines, the scent of an imminent blizzard... She knew all about Ao and understood what you feared you may never see again.

  
You didn't, unfortunately, get the chance to ask her about what she'd meant earlier--about not really moving here. That bothered you for some reason. It sounded bizarre, maybe a little ominous.

  
She put you back in your snow white kimono for Yaoyorozu to see as she came to fetch you for the parade. Your mentor understood the symbolism immediately, clasping folded hands to her mouth as tears actually began to bead in her eyes.

  
"It's so beautiful," she whispered. Then, to you, "You're just lovely. They're going to love you."

  
 _Until they find out about my non-existant quirk_ , you thought, shuffling after her as she took your arm and led you down the hall. _Well, as long as I've got one sponsor, I guess I'll have a chance._

  
You hadn't thought about Hawks most of the day since arriving at the stylist center. The prospect of him seeing you in this dress actually made you shiver. You recalled the piercing gold stare that bore straight through you last night. You wondered if he was the type of person who'd see straight through this kimono. You were no sinister spirit of the mountain snow; you were just a terrified little quirkless nobody who'd struck some rotten luck. Or maybe it was karma? Had you ever done anything so bad to warrant the Hunger Games as recompense?

  
Quite abruptly, you found yourself standing brace-legged and stiff on the District Ao chariot. The restriction of the kimono didn't make it easy and you swore to Iida, quietly, "I'm going to fall off, get trampled by Niji and ruin this outfit." District Niji was notorious for being around when unfortunate accidents befell opponent tributes before the Games.

  
He turned his _okami_ mask towards you, his snout almost bumping your nose. "As long as Hawks still sponsors you, it'll be alright."

  
The reassurance almost made you laugh.

  
"With that getup, you're going to be swimming in sponsors," you told him. "Everyone loves a good wolf legend. Can you imagine it? Iida, the wolf tribute. Sounds pretty cool."

  
He cocked his head, more like a dog than a wolf, and finally said, "That does sound pretty cool."

  
Then the stable hands were pulling your horses' reins, urging them into a trot and forcing you to clutch at the chariot railing. Regaining your balance, you remembered a stable boy telling you the horses knew this routine like you knew the back of your own hand and not to worry about directing them. Funny thing, Mina had pointed out a small scar on your hand earlier today that you hadn't noticed before and those reins, tied in a loose slipknot on a sort of handle, were looking pretty tempting.

  
You were disappointed Aizawa hadn't come to see you off, just a little. Yaoyorozu had left you as soon as you were settled into the chariot. You'd asked, keeping in mind that this may be your only opportunity, to pet the horses and Yaoyorozu had laughed giddily, whispering, "I know, right? I love horses, too, but we don't have any back in Ao."

  
"Really?" you asked, running a hand along the big animal's satin smooth flank. You'd been told these two were blue roans. You had no idea--you just knew they were huge, a smidge intimidating and gorgeous. "Not even anyone in Victor's Court?"

  
"Nope. Not a one. I don't think it's legal in District Ao. I can't think of a reason but I swear that's what I've heard."

  
There was still a ways for you to go to exit the shadow of the massive hall where the chariots were kept. You emerged to a thunderous roar that had grown steadily louder the closer you came to the rich evening sunlight. It was warm but dimming. The sun was dipping low over the horizon, blanketing the city in evening ambiance. Neon signs from buildings surrounding the coliseum where the parade was held flashed at you, firmly reminding you were still in Tokyo.

  
The crowd rose on either side, probably eighty thousand people fit like sardines into the stands. They were tossing flowers, coins, paper cranes into the arena as their favorite tributes passed them by. Your horses had to pick up their feet to avoid tripping on all the mess.

  
You were the sixth chariot in line. The one directly in front of you was Midori and Murasakino followed behind. Each chariot had a team of different colored horses and you marveled briefly at Murasakino's pair of dapple grays prancing in your wake. Sure, you were supposed to be looking at the crowd, giving them attention and eye contact in hopes of striking a cord with possible sponsors, but whatever. You'd like a last few moments of doing something you enjoyed before you were shoved into the arena for these Tokyo degenerates' entertainment.

  
Thank god you had your hands still on the chariot railing. That was the one thing that saved you from your fear of falling, being trampled and ruining your kimono becoming a reality as something massive, loud and very fast came thundering past you back the way you'd come.

  
The chariot in front of you spooked and your horses followed suit, one tugging the other to the side and picking up the pace into a pounding run. The chariot jolted, to say the least, and you fell to your knees as Iida slipped off the back with a shout and disappeared.

  
You were vaguely aware that the tone of the crowd had changed and that yelling was coming from somewhere closer down in the coliseum's arena. It was hard to hear over the heavy beat of hooves, though, and the frantic thumping of your heart.

  
Your horses had bolted, Iida was gone and you were going to fall off if something didn't happen fast. That was the thought that forced strength into your limbs, legs pushing you up against the pull of gravity and arms clasping to the sides of your chariot. You saw those reins tied in a slipknot and threw a hand towards them.

  
You grasped the leather just as you hit a rut, sending you airborne for a few precarious moments. You wondered if you'd be launched onto your horses' backs but then the wheels touched down and you grabbed the reins with the other hand, balling your fists and hauling backwards with as much force as you could muster.

  
It did nothing, just tipped you off balance that much more. It was just enough, in fact, that you felt yourself continue to move backwards towards the ground rushing past below. You thought, _Dammit, I'm gonna have to apologize to Mina for ruining this kimono. I hope Iida's okay. I don't think anyone's behind me so at least I won't get trampled._..

  
But there was someone behind you. Something was pressing into your back to keep you from falling--a hand. Then another hand was pulling the reins from your vice grip, a voice in your ear saying, "Nice try, birdy, but I'll take it from here."

  
Somehow, of all the things that were happening right now, this was what made your blood run cold.

  
You threw a shocked look upwards and found a pair of red wings, deep crimson in the oncoming twilight, extended above you. Hawks had maneuvered so he was flying just at your shoulder, gradually slowing your horses down by calling out to them and tugging at the reins far more gently than you had.

  
As soon as you'd slowed to a stop, standing all on your lonesome at the far end of the coliseum as you'd left the others way behind, your knees nearly gave out in relief. You said, breathless,"You saved me."

  
Hawks gave you a smile, golden eyes on yours just as bright and... what was the word to describe those eyes? They were...

  
"Of course," he said with a light laugh. He kept hold of the reins, striking a pose with his wings. "I am a hero, you know?"

  
Disconcerting. That was it. His eyes were disconcerting.

  
You gave him a weak smile back. This was your sponsor, your hero now, too, you guessed, but every nerve in your body was telling to get away from him. Run, whatever you need to do. _His eyes were disconcerting._

  
That was your first red flag, one of many to come, that warned you of the danger you were in and the havoc he would eventually wreak on your life. Unfortunately, there was no way you could stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuki-onna -- Japanese snow woman legend. For this story, loose interpretation will be used. Pretty much ominous woman spirit associated with snow and freezing to death.
> 
> Iida's costume isn't based off any particular legend, just the intimidation factor wolves bring to the table.
> 
> I struggled with the costume themes here. In HG, they went off the district's export for their theme. I eventually decided to use the disctrict's color instead of their export (which for Ao would be wood and spices/herbs mostly) but I knew I needed something else. I finally realized how fun it would be to tie folklore to the costumes and give them significance in relation to whatever story they were representing. Mina and Aoyama wanted to portray Ao's mountain beauty with a touch of menace, hence--snow woman and wolf.
> 
> Didn't see too much Hawks but he will be back more next chapter. Stay tuned!!


	7. Two of a Kind

"Well, kid, you sure know how to make an entrance." Hawks had landed while keeping a hand on your shoulder. Turning, he watched the mass of eighty thousand Tokyo residents screaming at the top of their lungs. They were confused, elated, excited. "Pretty damn neat, right? With a performance like that, you might pull more sponsors than just me." He turned his head to smile at you.

  
You gave him a weak look back, still trying to even out your breathing. You could feel sweat beading on your forehead and you really, really hoped it wouldn't ruin the kimono. All those near-misses from hitting the dirt to getting trampled just for it to be ruined by sweat would be a shame.

  
"I doubt that," you said. Then, unprompted, "Now they've seen I don't even have a quirk to save myself. Who would sponsor someone like that?"

  
It was too bad the crowd hadn't been a little louder. Maybe if he'd been a bit further away then that last bit could have slipped into oblivion. He could have asked, 'What?' and you would have responded with, 'Oh, my quirk's just so weak, it wouldn't have done anything.'

  
Fate had its sights set on something you couldn't foresee, however, because Hawks did hear you and his expression changed immediately. Forget the crowd, their yearning--this man suddenly looked awed. His features were two-toned, one half lit by the dying red sun and the other cast in shadow. You could clearly see his disconcerting eyes, gleaming like gold, locked on yours. They froze you in place, made you so incredibly self-conscious even in this gorgeous kimono along with all Mina's work on your hair and makeup.

  
"I'd sponsor someone like that," he said quietly and you were surprised you heard him over the coliseum's din.

  
Forget awe. Hawks didn't look awed. He looked _hungry_.

  
"Well, you're the only one," you said, feeling choked. How could you have let that slip? But then, was it even a problem that he knew you were quirkless? Aizawa had at least hinted at it last night, if not blatantly insinuated. Further, was there really a difference between having a worthless quirk and being quirkless? "Lucky me," you added, shrugging his hand away.

  
Hawks stayed still another second, stuck on you with those ravenous, disconcerting aurelian eyes, then he shook his head. The smile he'd dropped for a moment was back, blinding. No wonder Tokyo loved him with a smile like that.

  
"Lucky you is right, dove. And lucky me, too. Is that really true, are you really quirkless? Damn! I can't believe it. We _are_ lucky, kid. Both of us. Holy shit. For real? You're not yankin' my chain or anything? Not foolin' me to get a guaranteed sponsor, right? Hell, _maybe_ your quirk is tricking people and you're just pulling mind games on me right now. Ha, that'd be it."

  
He was talking fast and loud. Logically, you knew no one could hear him over the crowd but you shot glances around anyways. Maybe it was in your best interest that Hawks knew you were quirkless--and that was a hard, hot maybe--but you certainly didn't want any of your tribute opponents knowing.

  
"It's true," you said quickly, giving him a pleading frown. "But can we please keep it on the down low? My team already knows but I don't want the other tributes knowing, too."

  
He gave you a grin, shoved his face way too close to yours and made a zipping motion over his lips. "Your secret's safe with me, birdy. You bet I don't want anyone coming after my lucky duck."

  
Bird names. He'd called you at least three different bird-related terms of endearment in the sum total of the three minutes he'd spoken to you. Kid was his other go-to, it seemed. You couldn't decide if it was annoying or benign. You supposed it was better than him thinking he was on a first name basis.

  
 _Lucky duck_ pissed you off but you held your tongue. He'd committed to sponsoring you as far as you could tell. For lack of a better phrase, as you'd always been told: don't kill your golden goose. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, either. You glanced at your chariot team who were swishing their tails placidly. It seems they'd snapped out of their frenzy. You were glad, though, that Hawks still held the reins.

  
It was at about that moment when a trio of Games officials came thundering up to you in a chariot painted with the Tokyo capital red ray sun, one calling out, "Are you all right?"

  
"She's fine, just shook up," Hawks answered for you. He reached for your arm and tugged you gently out of the chariot, handing the reins to one of the officials as the other two brushed past to inspect your chariot.

  
You almost blanched, appalled that they were concerned with the parade continuing before snapping back to reality. This was the Hunger Games. Of course the parade wasn't going to be derailed by a little spook-and-bolt fiasco. Speaking of, what had even startled your horses to begin with? You'd seen it for the briefest moment, something large and loud zipping back towards the chariot hall, but it had passed you to the west and the setting sun had cast it in deep shadow.

  
"Well, looks like that's my cue to go. You're all safe and sound now. I'm sure these guys'll take good care of you."

  
"Yes, thank you, Hawks!" one of the officers said, giving a deep bow. "We appreciate the help. Tokyo's always happy to see you!"

  
"Yeah, I bet," he told him, flapping his wings once to get a few inches off the ground. He gave you a wink and a subtle wave, saying, "See ya soon, birdy."

  
"Sure," you returned hesitantly and watched him rise up and up until he disappeared into the darkness overhead. It was well into twilight now, the red glow of the sun having faded into indigo.

  
Soon, though? Ah, he meant the interviews. He'd likely be in the VIP Tokyo crowd in-studio for those. And he'd be seeing you all the time on TV for the next who-knows-how-long.

  
That thought made you pause. Yeah, who-knows-how-long until it all ended with you dying. He'd be watching you until you died. What a horrid thing to think about. Again, you thanked Aizawa for the light breakfast which had compelled you to take a small lunch. Mina had spent the whole half hour insisting you fatten up for the Games on okra tempura.

  
"I know you don't get this in Ao," she'd told you, mouth stuffed. Your mother had always told you it was rude to speak with your mouth full but it appeared Tokyo didn't follow the same line of etiquette. Aoyama was eating like a slob, too.

  
"I've had tempura before," you said quietly, picking up another to pop in your mouth. They were good, honest, and you didn't get fried food often enough at home.

  
"Not okra. I don't think I ever had any until I came here," Mina said, rolling her dark eyes upward to think about it a moment. "Yeah, nope. First time was here in Tokyo. That was a day I'll never forget." She leaned over to smack the table enthusiastically. "And your kimono I'll never forget, either! Oh, it's so good! I can't believe it turned out perfect!"

  
You were glad the kimono hadn't been ruined in the confusion, running a hand over the silky smooth fabric as one of the officials rode with you in the Ao chariot back to the re-assembling parade. Thinking of it made you purse your lips, surprised that Hawks, lecherous as his reputation was, hadn't made a single comment about it. Then again you might have been misinterpreting the object of his hungering eyes. Maybe he was admiring the kimono, not caught on the revelation that you were quirkless. With trepidation, somehow you doubted it was about the kimono.

  
His behavior had been strange. Sure, he was the notorious underdog better but finding out you're about to throw all your money away on a quirkless tribute certainly wasn't something which would warrant that starved captivation.

  
There was no way around it. You suspected that Aizawa was right--Hawks, your sole sponsor and perhaps only hope, was a moron. He was a bizarre moron at that, getting so excited over a quirkless tribute. Your mother had broken down over it; Yaoyorozu, Ms. Midnight and Iida had all shared the same horrified mien; All Might had been full of regret and Izuku had taken a swing at the Commission all in the name of your quirklessness.

  
But here came Hawks, resident playboy darling of Tokyo giving your affliction this unsettling undue reverence. Aizawa wasn't a quirkless cultist but maybe your sponsor was. That was the only explanation you could come up with.

  
You found Iida unharmed standing on his own. There had been four more chariots that had gone astray although none had gotten as far as your own. Other pro heroes had swooped in to mediate the chaos and most hadn't really even lost control of their horses. These tributes stood in their own clusters while officials led chariots back into their proper place in line.

  
After assuring you he was fine, Iida tilted his head slightly towards you. He still had his wolf mask on and it appeared he was trying to be subtle. "Don't look at me. Pretend I'm not talking to you," he said quietly. "It was a tribute that did it."

  
You couldn't help that your eyebrows rose a fraction. "What?" You tried to keep your lips still as you asked, staring dully at the triage of horses and officials trying to put themselves back in order.

  
"The boy from... I think it was District Gin. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. You saw something run past us, right? Something big? That was him. His must have some sort of transformation quirk to make himself that large but it must have been him. See, his partner's standing over there by herself."

  
Your gaze flickered to the one tribute standing on her lonesome. You could tell she was from Gin by the sleeves of silver bangles and the thin, delicate chains in fishnets on her legs. She wore a tight, filmy metallic dress that made you think of Aoyama in the way it caught reflections. Her gaze was blank and wan, fixed on the ground.

  
You said nothing else and Iida didn't offer any more. That was probably the extent of his knowledge. You could both guess what had happened. That boy had tried to escape. But why wait until now? The parade was one of the most closely watched moments of the Games, the other being the interviews. Literally millions of people were seeing this unfold on live TV right this moment.

  
Hm. You wondered how they were going to cover this up. You were certain they'd try. The Commission didn't like being one-upped, hence the barriers around your hotel that kept you from jumping. Even if he didn't manage to escape, Gin's male tribute would have all of Japan's attention. Perhaps it was some sort of misaligned bid for sponsors? You weren't sure how broadcasting yourself as a coward was going to bring in money, but hey. Hawks seemed happy, _ecstatic_ to sponsor a quirkless tribute so perhaps there was a niche market for cowards, too.

  
That wasn't entirely true, though. You didn't think the boy was a coward. He was just a terrified kid trying anything he could think of to save himself from what was likely to be a gruesome death. There was no shame in that.

  
"Hey, they're ready for us."

  
Iida's voice snapped you from your thoughts and, taking the hand he kindly offered, you shuffled after him to the waiting chariot. Your horses appeared calm, quietly chomping at their bits. Blinders had been placed over their eyes, narrowing their vision to what was directly in front of them.

  
You quietly thanked Iida for the hand up, appreciating the chivalry, as the parade began again. Out about twenty yards to your left and right, Games officers walked beside you along with some stable hands. It seemed they were determined not to allow the same mishap twice in a night.

  
Looking over at one of the stable boys, the one trotting along closest to you, you saw with a trill of horror the fear on his face and the way he kept swiping at his nose and eyes. Clenching your manicured hands over the chariot railing, you realized the Commission wasn't only interested in keeping it from happening again but that they would be issuing punishments for it happening at all.

  
That boy had no control over it. He had nothing to do with it yet you were certain he would be held to blame along with the rest of his fellow stable hands.

  
The thought made you angry, lent gas to the fire that had been simmering in your stomach since the reaping. How important everyone else's problems became as you desperately tried to ignore your own.

  
The parade finished without another hitch, the fourteen chariots with their twenty-seven tributes forming a half-circle around a ovoid stage at the far end of the coliseum. You'd kept your eyes on the Gin chariot as it was loaded with only the girl tribute. You hadn't seen the boy and you wondered what they'd done with him.

  
You didn't have to wonder very long.

  
President Yukiha was not a socialite leader and that was putting it lightly. More accurate, one might call her a shut-in. It was the Commission that led the speech section of the parade agenda. An old figure in the political realm, Head Gamemaker Yokumiru Mera, gave another of his sleepy introductions to the Games, welcoming everyone to the fun, initiating the betting pool with the tipping of the scales by flooding them with yen coins, thanking the Commissions past in their enduring wisdom over two hundred years ago for establishing the Hunger Games...

  
Despite her seclusion, President Yukiha somehow managed to retain high numbers in popularity poles. Even in District Ao, where you had watched school children methodically shoot spitballs at same statue of the president every morning on their way to school, she always maintained at least a seventy-five percent approval rating.

  
"And now, a demonstration is in order."

  
You slipped back into the present, Iida giving you a subtle nudge with his elbow, as a small entourage of peace officers appeared on the left end of the stage. They were each holding a thick-linked chain that you could hear clanking from here. Attached to these chains, staggering in their center, was something that you'd never seen before even in a world full of quirks.

  
It was big and dark. There were four legs, a tail, and you realized that it looked like a horse. But where the neck should be there was a... human torso. Yes, that was the human torso of a young man complete with two arms that were bound tightly to his sides. Through those binding chains you could see from his wrist to his shoulder numerous bangles. A sleek gray top fit his lean form to a T, shredded at the hem as if it had been violently torn.

  
What caught your attention most were his eyes, red from tears and petrified even from here. There was more though in the way he obstinately stamped his hooves as they dragged him forward, the sharp swishing of his tail. He glared at Yokumiru who watched him approach with nonchalance.

  
"I'm sure you all saw the unfortunate accident that befell us earlier, whether you are here with us tonight or joining us from the comfort of your home on television," he drawled to the cameras. Another peace officer had come up from the right stage and was approaching him with a black velvet case. "But I am here to inform you that, regrettably, what happened earlier was not in fact an accident. Stable help, stage hands, Games officials, tributes--the integrity of the Games themselves were all put in jeopardy tonight _on purpose_."

  
A strident, if muted, murmuring broke up from the stands above you. Spotlights which cut through the dark to the stage and upon each of the chariots were suddenly swiveling around the stadium, catching the mortified looks of the Tokyo residents present as they rumbled to themselves over what was apparently news.

No, it wasn't an accident. A tribute had tried to run.

  
Their collective reaction made you pull a face which Iida instantly jostled you for, whispering in his mask, "I know, I know, but keep your poker face."

  
"It happened right in front of them," you hissed through barely-moving lips stained red with the strawberry lipstick Mina had insisted upon. "Are they stupid?"

  
Iida didn't answer which was an answer enough on its own.

  
Yokumiru continued, opening the black case that had been presented to him and pulling out two items which you couldn't quite discern, "The Commission and President Yukiha have come to a decision. This boy's heinous attempt at insurrection, his defiling of our sacred Games and his blatant disregard for his government and his people cannot go unpunished. We will not allow it to go unpunished."

  
It was a gun. He'd pulled out a vintage Nambu pistol, likely an actual original from a long-ago era, and had loaded it with a single shot which he'd also pulled from the case. It surprised you, later when you had time to reflect, how adept and quick his hands were, how relaxed he was as he took his position with one arm raised, the way he didn't flinch as the centaur tribute began to throw himself around in a re-ignited frenzy.

  
"Amajiki Tamaki, male tribute of District Gin in the 133rd running of the Hunger Games, you will pay for your crimes here and now. So says the Commission."

  
The shot rang out, reverberating in your skull, through your bones. Your fingers were clutched on the chariot rails, again, but the horses didn't even spook or startle. Iida would later tell you their ears had been stuffed with cotton.

  
There was no ceremony to it, not really. The centaur--Amajiki--was not ten feet away from Yokumiru struggling to get out of the gun's line of fire for one moment. The next he was collapsing to his knees. Two things made the crowd stir, put you on edge: first, he fell no further than his knees and remained sitting upright despite the fact that a point-blank shot like that should have killed him; second, his massive horse knees melted down until they were human again. All those chains around his body suddenly sagged, began clanking to the ground as peace officers dropped them and stepped away.

  
It took Amajiki a few moments to realize he was still alive and he was much faster than the rest of you. With a mortified look, he turned his eyes to Yokumiru who was quietly returning the gun to its case, finger tapping the side as he inspected something before snapping it shut.

  
He opened his mouth, said something you could not hear. You were pretty sure he'd asked, 'What did you do to me?'

  
The Games official's eyes were cold and tired. "You have been sentenced to play the Games without your quirk. May the odds be ever in your favor." He gave the distraught tribute the slightest bow, turning his back and saying just loud enough for the mic to catch, "Your district sends its thanks."

  
That was what tipped Amajiki over the edge. He clutched at his hair with his freed hands, tears openly streaming down his face as he began to sob. The lights on stage cut out, leaving the coliseum in disquieted darkness. You swear you could still hear the ring of the pistol echoing in the stands.

  
Rueful, you averted your eyes from the faint outline of the broken tribute and instead stared at your horse's back, eyes caught on the blue jewels glittering in the surrounding Tokyo neon, the bangles and tokens adorning their harnesses. The 501 and your kimono aside, you doubted you'd ever seen anything so lush in your entire life.

  
You'd certainly never witnessed something so terrible as what you'd just watched unfold before your eyes. Perhaps Amajiki would be dead soon but it wouldn't be soon enough. He would have been better off shot with a real gun, the bullet tearing through his heart. Now his heart was broken knowing his district would pay for his desperate attempt to flee. 

  
More terrible, now he was going in to the Games quirkless just like you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start uploading chapters once per week. I think I have a beta on board so I'm super excited for that~
> 
> I dunno if Amajiki's quirk would let him be a centaur but I liked the idea.
> 
> Stay tuned, guys. It's just gonna keep getting better!


	8. The Pamphlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished it and wanted to post it before Monday so here you go!

Your team nearly accosted you as soon as you stepped off your chariot back in the hangar. 

  
Yaoyorozu was first to pounce, grasping your shoulders and looking you all over. "Are you alright? I know you didn't fall off but, oh my word, you came so close."

  
Ms. Midnight snorted gently, patting Yaoyorozu on the back. "She's fine, sweetheart. Probably just a little shook up like Hawks said."

  
"Oh, that _ass_!" Yaoyorozu suddenly snarled uncharacteristically, cupping your cheeks in her hands. "What did he say to you? I know he got in close--way too close. God, I can't stand him. Does he not understand the concept of personal space? With a young woman, too. Urgh."

  
"Hawks? Personal space? What're you on about, Momo?" Aizawa asked, hanging back with Iida a bit. He had a hand on the boy's shoulder, giving it a few hard pats. Dutiful as ever, Iida was still wearing his mask. "That idiot's never been told off in his life, I guarantee. Well, myself aside. Pampered, spoiled, awful Tokyo dog." To you, he said, "I'm just glad you had the guts to try and grab the reins. Glad and impressed. Pretty ballsy."

  
"Ballsy in a good way?" you asked.

  
"I thought so," he said, giving you a sidelong smile. It silently told you, _I think sponsors might think so, too_.

  
"Oh, I'm just so glad you're okay!" Mina said, shifting from foot-to-foot behind Yaoyorozu. She was alternating between wringing her hands and reaching up to pat her cheeks. Her makeup was a little disheveled. "And the kimono, too. But mostly you. Oh, but I was so worried the kimono would be ruined!"

  
"Yes, that would have been a true tragedy," Aoyama said unhelpfully, smile wan. He was standing a bit further back and you could see his forehead shiny with sweat. He must have been pretty worked up.

  
"It's not like I'll be wearing it again," you said, looking down and smoothing it out. The silkiness still awed you, slipping through your fingers nearly like water. It was then you noticed your hands were shaking.

  
"Don't say that," Yaoyorozu told you, grabbing those trembling hands in hers. She was peering deep into your eyes, her own expression grave and concerned. "You can make it through this. I know you've got a shot."

  
It was the first time Yaoyorozu had said anything along those lines to you and it made you, despite all the rest of tonight's insanity, choke up a little. How you wished you could believe her. Did you believe you had a shot? Maybe with Hawks. Maybe. Ms. Midnight and Mina both stepped forward to give your hair pets as you fought your tears and said, "I guess so." Then, because you weren't filtering yourself properly, you blurted, "I'm not the only one going in without a quirk."

  
Everyone somehow managed to sober up at that. Yaoyorozu's eyes dropped to the ground, Ms. Midnight turned her face aside, Mina put a hand to her mouth while Aoyama and Iida both stiffened.

  
You hadn't meant to say it. You really hadn't. It was so horrifying that you weren't thinking straight and it slipped out.

  
Only Aizawa could meet your gaze. His expression was dire, mouth drawn. "Yes, that boy's going to have a tough time," he said quietly.

  
The conversation dropped and Ms. Midnight herded everyone to District Ao's allotted car waiting at the back entrance of the coliseum. Two chain linked fences, each topped with barbed wire, surrounded the roundabout where tribute party vehicles were idling. Some tributes had beat you out and were already headed back to The 501.

  
You trailed along on the side of your group near the fence, staring out at the menagerie that was neon Tokyo beyond. Signs, giant TV screens, shops, restaurants, hundreds of people were walking just within your line of vision. It was vibrant and alive. You wondered if was possible for a tribute to escape. You'd never seen it done before and tonight's disaster told you a failed attempt might not be worth the slim, slim chance of success offered by trying.

  
You didn't have a quirk for them to take away, after all. Yokumiru'd have to use a real bullet on you to prove a point.

  
You waved goodbye to your stylists before loading up. The drive itself was quiet. Apparently bringing up the other quirkless tribute had ruined everyone's appetite for chatter. You didn't mind that too much. Today had been long and you were exhausted.

  
Stumbling out of the stomach-dropping-fast elevator and down the hall to your room, you barely convinced yourself to slip out of the snow woman kimono, laying it carefully over the dresser, shrugging on a T-shirt and loose pants you found in the closet before collapsing into bed. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, you opted to grab Izuku's note and re-read it. Manipulating the holosheet on your nightstand into flicking on a light was too much work so you read by the glow of the projected holograph itself.

  
Izuku's writing read in Izuku's voice within your head. In some parts, the implied tone was hard to imagine--he'd never been one to shout or speak with a poisonous growl. You wondered what he'd say to them removing Amajiki's quirk. He was so taken with his own, he'd probably been horrified during tonight's broadcast. No doubt he'd been watching. Everyone was required to watch, victors and Tokyo citizens aside.

  
Your eyelids eventually became so heavy that you happened to drift back into consciousness for one final thought. That special new thing this year Iida talked about... _Oh, I'll look tomorrow_. You'd vaguely noticed the pale outline of the pamphlet he'd mentioned as you'd carefully arranged the kimono.

  
That was for tomorrow. Tonight, you needed to sleep. It was probably going to be one of the last comfortable, quiet rests you would ever get.

  
\--

  
You woke up only half-refreshed and completely forgot about the pamphlet. Ms. Midnight was banging on your door again, demanding you get up. She'd taken on the tone of an annoyed mother. You wondered if she'd managed through another bottle of Rosé last night.

  
Aizawa had again made certain your breakfast was light. Toast, some honey, fruits you'd never seen before and eggs. A heaping bowl of rice was also put in front of you along with chopsticks.

  
Iida was already half through his meal by the time you made it to the kitchen. He and Yaoyorozu were sitting across from each other quietly discussing something, Aizawa lost in space staring out the gargantuan windows into the misty Tokyo morning. Ms. Midnight was sat by herself across the room on the sofa watching TV. They were airing infomercials for more weird products and you found your eyes wandering repeatedly to stare in abject curiosity.

  
"Those eye drops don't change your eye color like that," Aizawa grunted at you.

  
You raised a brow at him, redirecting your gaze from the glow-in-the-dark eye commercial to your mentor.

  
"They use firefly genes that they splice into a lab-grown eyeball then install that in you. The eyeball they grow is _your_ eyeball--they take your DNA to grow it--but it's so invasive that I've heard people get one done then just refuse to do the second one. Chronic pain, hazy sight and their night vision turns to crap. Or they just go blind in that eye. Not worth it if you ask me."

  
"Of course it wouldn't be worth it to you. You depend on your eyes for your quirk!" Ms. Midnight had somehow heard him all the way across the vast expanse of the 32nd floor, waving a hand over the couch dismissively.

  
"I don't see you getting any body odor implants," Aizawa growled quietly.

  
"I heard that!"

  
"What did I say?"

  
"Something about my quirk. I know you like a book, Aizawa."

  
He grunted, pushing his empty plate away and standing to stretch. "Touche. Well, let's review these training forms real quick then head out."

  
Iida immediately shuffled down a chair to sit next to you but Yaoyorozu held back.

  
"Are you two both alright with reviewing your training sheets together?" she asked. "It's completely fine if you aren't comfortable and want to keep it between yourself and a mentor."

  
You and Iida exchanged a glance. You shrugged immediately and Iida gave her a half smile, saying in a soft tone, "I think we know enough about each other as is. Seeing each others' training schedules isn't going to change anything."

  
Yaoyorozu looked relieved, joining the group next to Aizawa with two small sheafs of papers paper clipped to one another.

  
You were relieved, too, and glad in a sorrowful sort of way. You were happy that Iida didn't view you as an enemy or at least was trying not to. You had been doing the same since the reaping which was just...well, only two days ago. It felt like you'd been away from home for a long time. It was impossible for the camaraderie to last forever but you wished it would.

  
Both your mentors were well satisfied with your and Iida's preliminary schedules. You had put yourself down for a lot of activities related to survival, sticking to Aizawa's advice on the train of aiming for avoidance. You didn't know much about weapons and you'd slated yourself for a few lessons in those over the three days but the majority of your time was allotted towards hunting techniques, crafting traps and tying knots, poisonous flora, edible flora and basic survival skills such as starting fires and first aid.

  
A regimen like this illustrated your goal to just pit yourself against the arena, minimizing tribute encounters as much as possible and out-living everyone off the land.

  
Iida's schedule, to your unwarranted surprise, was centered around his quirk. While he already knew a bit about mechanics, he had set aside a hefty number of time blocks for something you'd ignored entirely on your own sheet: personalized quirk training. As Yaoyorozu explained, a mentor with a quirk similar to the tribute's would be available for consultation. They would help the tribute come up with new applications of their quirk, utilizing it to its fullest potential in a survival setting.

  
"You've got an interesting quirk," Aizawa said, scanning the sheet. "Biomechanical. Not your common emitter or your equally common mutant type but an in-between hybrid. I actually haven't seen any quirks quite like it outside your family."

  
As far as famous in District Ao went, the Iida family could be considered elite. There was a hero son in every generation and had been for nearly three-fourths a century. Iida's elder brother, one of the ones who'd swore they'd have volunteered if they could, was a fairly prominent hero trainee. He was nearly at the end of his seven year stint and would be serving the District Ao area by next autumn. Everyone was anticipating it; Ao hadn't had a hero in ten years and crime rates had risen notably enough for Tokyo to care. No mention of rampant petty theft or the not-so-occasional domestic dispute gone south, but they wouldn't stand for their shipments of spices compromised or stolen. Goodness forbid they go a day without wasabi or shungiku.

  
"Does it... or, you, ever need to be oiled?" Yaoyorozu asked. "Or can you rust?"

  
Iida pushed his chair back, looking down at his engine calves. "I mean, I've always taken care of them as part of my hygeine routine. We polish them and try to avoid extended periods of time in water... The only real issue I've ever had with them is overheating if I use them too much." He gave the mentor pair a concerned look. "I never considered that they could rust but if I don't have my usual equipment... Who knows."

  
Aizawa shook his head gently. "Don't worry too much. You'll have a mentor with a similar quirk in training. You might have even more than one over the three days and they'll know far more about it than we do. They've been given training themselves on advising about their quirks. In fact, they have to simulate different environments several days in conditions similar to the Games before they're approved." He tilted his chin up, eyes certain. "They'll point you in the right direction. Don't worry."

  
To your schedule, Yaoyorozu only suggested you might take advantage of one class you'd somehow missed called 'anti-quirk combat.'

  
"They'll give different fighting techniques for common quirks and they should have information for any quirk you ask about," she explained. "For instance, say you saw a... wing quirk tribute. That's not terribly common so they probably wouldn't have it in the lesson plan but they will give you techniques to combat it if you bring it up."

  
You hesitated for a long moment, mulling over whether you wanted to give up another hunting class for the anti-quirk one. In the end, you opted to keep your schedule as is. You hadn't seen any blatant mutant types you could name and quirks these days were so diverse. You didn't think it would be worth your time as you didn't know what sort of quirks you were facing.

  
Yaoyorozu didn't protest. Hawks must really be getting to her if she was bringing him up casually like this. There was a reason she'd used a wing quirk as her example.

  
You didn't see any tributes down in the lobby today. Regardless, Ms. Midnight was quick to usher your group out into the waiting car, climbing into the passenger seat herself with a, "Day one of training is notorious for fights that I don't want to deal with." Pointing back at you and Iida, she said, "Save it for the arena. If someone throws hands today, you scream and run."

  
Aizawa made an irritated noise. "Don't, actually. Don't be a pansy."

  
"What else am I supposed to do?" you asked, not intending to be venomous today. "Avoidance strategy, right?"

  
Aizawa shifted a sour glance your way. "Avoid the others, don't run from them."

  
A bit of an oxymoron but you refrained from asking the most intelligent question you could come up with which was, 'What?'

  
Truth be told, the idea of coming in contact with other tributes made you nervous. _As if I wasn't nervous enough already,_ you thought ruefully.

  
The training complex was an interesting building. It was huge, like the Wash Wash Arena, but the roof was flat. Climbing out of the car, you realized those shivering objects up there were the tops of trees. Real, actual trees.

  
Tokyo, you'd noticed on the multiple drives to and from The 501, tried its best to grow trees throughout the city. There were patches in parks, lines down quite a number of streets, an artfully overgrown copse along a natural stretch of river beneath a bridge you'd crossed but they didn't seem as healthy as the ones back in Ao. Throughout your district, especially along the border fence, there were great swaths of beeches and maples mixed in with majestic black pine. The sound of the wind through the branches always soothed you when you were out collecting berries and herbs for your paints.

  
None of Tokyo's trees you'd seen so far could compare. The ones on top of this complex looked promising, though. You guessed they were up there to teach climbing, bark and twigs pulled to instruct on fire-starting.

  
Your mentors and Ms. Midnight dropped the pair of you off like parents would their kids for school. Ms. Midnight wave goodbye, Yaoyorozu told you to try your best and have a good day and Aizawa growled a final warning, "Do _not_ run and scream whatever you do. You'll become a target."

  
You felt like a target already, quirkless and all, but none of these guys needed to know that. Iida was enough. Your mentor team and Ms. Midnight were alright. Hawks was pushing it. That was it. No one else needed to know.

  
There were eight scheduled periods in a day. You spent the first two alone in back-to-back lessons about hunting strategies and traps.

  
The instructor was a kindly old lady with crow's feet and heavy perfume. Despite the sickly sweet stench, you thought she looked more district-y than Tokyo-ish. She lacked the affect, too, maybe just a lilted wisp of it like Aoyama. Fake.

  
Her kindliness was fake, too, you thought when she grasped your forearm in the digital hunting simulation and plunged your VR knife into the neck of the hyper-realistic tanuki you'd snared. In your ear, she barked, "Get him, girl! You don't want 'im to suffer, do ya'? There, that'll do."

  
You hated to admit it but stabbing the little thing was difficult. You'd seen tanuki wandering the perimeter fence in Ao sometimes. Sika would chase them along the chain link. They were pretty cute.

  
It was the blood, you thought. You'd never worn VR before but this headset was so immersive you swore you could feel the hot stickiness of blood dripping over your fingers as you pulled the knife free. The tanuki, whose plush coat you thought you'd felt under your palms, had fallen still.

  
You tried to pull the headset off, asking, "Does it make you feel things, too? Or am I just stabbing a prop?"

  
The old lady laughed at you. "Pretty bizarre, isn't it, girly? Nah, it's doing that to you. Now sit back down and quit tugging at that. We're gonna go through skinning it now. You get fur _and_ meat from this little bugger!"

  
It wasn't fun but it was educational. Your mentors would both tell you to focus on the instruction, not the unpleasantness. If you felt this much angst over stabbing a tanuki, how were you going to stab another tribute?

  
You didn't want to but you had to admit your avoidance strategy was a bit of a pipe dream. More likely than not, you'd clash with another tribute in the arena and you needed to come to grips with the idea.

  
The third hour was about plants. You found your ego boosting a bit when going over mountain flora. That leafy plant with the single raised cluster of red berries--ginseng. The root, especially fresh, is good for energy. That long, oval-shaped berry is from a white mulberry tree. The berries won't do much, though they taste mildly sweet, but the bark can be used as an anti-septic. The green spiny cones with broad leaves was wasabi, the most common herb in Ao maybe, and it could be used against parasites or a bacterial infection when you could sneak some from under the peace officers' noses.

  
There was an old medicine woman who lived in Ao's main town. She was very short and weak but she had hands that healed like magic. Her quirk was mostly to thank but she would trade you very well for a good few sprigs of wasabi. She got away with it because even peace officers would come to her with ailments.

  
You had approached her, at Izuku's insistence, when first starting out with paints. She knew all about plants, you wanted to know more--that was Izuku's logic and why he knocked on her door and ran before you could get away. His quirk made him so fast.

  
She'd welcomed you inside, offered you licorice tea, and talked with you a long time about berries and herbs. "The mulberries are what you'll be most interested in--the most colors--but there's more to know about plants than that." She gave you a wrinkly smile. "I should tell someone what I know before I pass. You're here, might as well tell you."

  
That's why you knew all this. You'd been collecting herbs and berries and barks on the edges of Ao for years not only for paints but also for the old medicine woman. She was the reason you'd skipped tesserae that first year. She'd given you enough in exchange to keep you and your mother fed. You'd lied to your mother. You told her they gave you much-needed meats and rice in exchange for your paintings at the trade market but they mostly offered frivolous things like pretty stones, a pair of high heeled shoes, a single orange.

  
The instructor for the floral class was impressed with his only student. He seemed to warm up to you knowing you had a knack for plants then began pushing you with other biomes. Tundra, grassland, tropical rainforest, arid desert. Your confidence fell apart but he assured you something would stick if you just kept at it. He was pleased to see you were on his schedule five more times in the next two days and waved you goodbye to your next class.

  
This was the last hour before lunch, the first where you found yourself not alone. There were seven other tributes sitting in desks, like a normal classroom, as you sat down. You glanced at your roster: basic survival skills.

  
You'd picked a spot at the edge of the room, avoiding looking at the others. There was someone from Gin or Garudo--both wore excessive jewelry that gave them their signature jangle--and you'd spotted a bright red head, indicating Aka. The others you skimmed your eyes over once, twice, then back to the floor. They were casting eyes around, too, most less anxiously than you and you hoped the instructor would come in soon and distract them.

  
For whatever dumb reason, you considered that someone might have a mind-reading quirk. All it would take was one peek into your panicking, in-overdrive mind and that'd be it. Your cover'd be blown, you'd be in white hot water. Call it a day, wish your mother and brother goodbye because the jig's up. Sorry Aizawa, Yaoyorozu, even you Hawks--it's over.

  
You shouldn't have been worrying about your cover being blown. What a silly reason to work yourself up because next thing you're looking at is someone's feet, ankles bangled with silver, and this person says--

  
"You met Hawks, right? He's your sponsor, right?"

  
You looked up, brow furrowed, and found the District Gin tribute Amajiki. He was holding a shoulder awkwardly as if in pain and you thought it was because he'd been shot there just last night. His eyes weren't terrified anymore. They were still red, likely from crying, but there was a dark yearning now. He looked mostly determined, borderline desperate.

  
"You have to introduce me to him. Please. It's the only way I'll get his attention. He approached you, he wants you--if you plead on my behalf, I'm sure he'll listen. He's got to."

  
When you didn't move, the rest of the room frozen in silence watching, he reached out and grabbed your arm not hard enough to hurt but firm enough that your instincts sounded the alarm.

  
"Hey, are you listening to me? Did you hear me? You've gotta convince Hawks to give me a chance. That's all I'm asking. Or, no! Just introduce me. You know, walk up and tell him my name, my district. It's Gin, by the way--" His bangles had been clattering together this whole time. "--but I'm sure you know after what... what happened last night. C'mon, please. I'm begging you. I'll be your ally. I'm good at hand-to-hand fighting and I'm strong. I don't have my quirk but I'm not useless, please."

  
Suddenly his bracelets were twirling around his arm, jangling madly as another person came up and shoved him away. You turned to find a dark haired girl with deep green eyes. Her teeth were bared like an animal, sharp and not entirely human.

  
"Lay off, Gin!" she snapped. "She doesn't _have_ to do anything."

  
He seemed to square up now that he'd found some push back. "You don't understand. You've got no idea what it's like to not have your quirk."

  
She sneered at him. "Neither does she, genius. She's _never_ had a quirk."

  
Wait, what? What? _What?_ Your instincts kinda gave up all of a sudden, blood chilling as you felt your eyes go wide.

  
"How did you know that?" you asked.

  
Now everyone was openly staring. You could feel all their eyes digging into your skin, reaching past you barriers to your most prized secret which, surprise, wasn't much of a secret after all. Why get worked up over keeping secrets everyone already knew?

  
The dark-haired girl's were the most piercing of all. She gazed at you a good few seconds before blinking, mouth contorting to hide her sharp teeth as she said, " _Geez_ , really? He did _that_? Sorry, but he really played you dirty."

  
"How did you know?" you repeated more forcefully.

  
"Did you miss it?" Amajiki asked. His voice sounded softer, like he was sorry. They all suddenly seemed sorry, averting their digging stares from your shredded facade. "It was announced...Well, Hawks announced it on TV this morning. He said you told him last night at the parade when he saved you."

  
"Why?" you choked, mind reeling.

  
"He said he didn't want to have an unfair advantage before the Games start," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "But we all know he just loves the underdog. He probably just wanted to show off how altruistic and noble he is for sponsoring a quirkless tribute."

  
"Don't say that!" It was a gut reaction. Your mind was regressing into the mentality of, _If no one says it, then it isn't true_. Because you'd snapped, you gently tried to remedy with, "Please, I--"

  
"That's why you have to help me!" Amajiki said, leaning down as if to grasp your arm again. The girl's cold stare, reptilian, stayed his hand. He hadn't let himself appear afraid in front of Yokumiru last night but he didn't hide his fear of his fellow tribute. "Hawks loves quirkless tributes so you have to introduce us! He might sponsor me if you do!"

  
You weren't totally grasping everything that was occurring but you did have one coherent question. "Introduce you? When would I introduce you? Last night was a fluke. I'm not gonna see Hawks again."

  
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be there," the dark-haired girl said.

  
"Yes, he'll definitely be there," Amajiki echoed. He gave you a puzzled look. "Do you... Do you not know?"

  
What was happening?

  
"Know what?" you snarled.

  
All these people knew too much. They knew you were quirkless, defenseless, weak, and apparently it was Hawks who had told them! It was a good thing you weren't gonna see him again. You stood no chance against a pro hero, let alone Japan's No. 3, but that wasn't gonna stop you from _trying_ to wring his neck. Holy hell, if you ever came within lunging distance of that man ever again, you would just go all out ham. Forget the Games, the Commission would have your head for attempted assassination of their darling golden boy hero before any of these tribute scrubs got their chance.

  
"That new thing they're doing this year. The Sponsor's Gala. He'll be there," Amajiki told you, still looking concerned. "Tomorrow night, after we get through training. Did you not read the pamphlet...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawks will be back next time of course lololol


	9. Brave New Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late but what're ya gonna do?

You found Iida in your sixth class. The period before had been lunch and you'd had the unfortunate opportunity to watch Hawks' broadcast in full. He was flashy and smiley as usual, bragging about his luck in finding a quirkless tribute. He went on about how lucky all of Japan was and how perhaps this would be everyone's lucky year.

  
"And most of all, I think the person who should be most pleased is Madame President," he said, turning to the camera with arguably the best angle on him. His charm was angelic. "A lucky year for us all but an especially lucky year for you, Ms. Yukiha. May the odds be in all our favors. I'm certainly going to try to make it happen!"

  
You'd cringed the entire time, suppressing shivers and getting through only a meager portion of your food. A Games staffer had come over and bugged you to finish, saying you'd need your strength in the arena. You'd shrugged her off, disgusted and a bit nauseous.

  
The parade of tributes begging for an introduction to Hawks continued throughout the day. It wasn't an onslaught by any standard definition but the way it made you feel, sorry and apologetic, made you to think it was. Amajiki had been warded off by the reptilian girl but he'd kept his eyes on you throughout the rest of fourth period and lunch. You'd had another lonely class fifth hour, thank goodness, but it seemed sixth period would be an uncomfortable one with multiple tributes present.

  
At least Iida was here. He'd know what you should do.

  
He'd chosen as desk front and center of the room, of course, but despite your growing love for corners you forced yourself to take a seat beside him, leaning over to whisper, "Hey."

  
He turned and smiled, glad to see you. You'd been disappointed not to see him at lunch but it seemed there were two different periods, half of the tributes per each. You'd noticed only one from each district was present. They probably did it to cut down on fights. You'd already witnessed a tense moment earlier in your survival skills class, Amajiki and the reptilian tribute aside. The two that had actually gotten physical had to be pulled away from each other by two peace officers who'd busted in the door out of nowhere.

  
"Hey," Iida responded then frowned. "Are you alright?"

  
Your eyes had flickered once, twice, to the few students already gathered in desks behind you. It was another survival class and you were sure there would be more coming. The ones already here were all either looking at you or trying not to. 

  
"Nevermind. Kind of a dumb question," Iida said before you could reply. Gently, he added, "I saw the broadcast. I'm sorry he did that."

  
"Yeah, me, too," you said, dropping your gaze to the floor. Finding a friendly face after being stared at all morning was generating some tears you were fighting off with desperation. "I just... I can't understand why he did it. Now I'm a huge target." You quirked your mouth. "In more ways than one."

  
Iida put a hand to his chin, looking upwards as he thought. "Yes, I've been thinking about it, too. I haven't thought of any good reason for him to reveal it either."

  
You let out a weary sigh, resigning to swiping a stray tear and turning to face the front of the room.

  
"But I'm sure Aizawa will have something for you," Iida quickly said, reaching out to hesitantly give you a pat on the back. "He seems to know Hawks at least somewhat. And honestly, Ms. Midnight seemed to sort of like him. She wasn't spitting mad when he showed up the other night."

  
You thought of that anxious moment of getting lost in the Tokyo crowd getting off the train, how she'd come forcing her way through the crowd to get you. She could be a real terror when she felt it was necessary but she hadn't acted that way towards Hawks. Iida was right, she'd seemed almost pleased to see him when he'd first arrived, only getting irritated as he dug himself into a hole by being callous.

  
You gave your fellow Ao tribute a resigned smile, saying, "You're right. It's only two more hours until the day's over. I can make it. They'll know what to do."

  
It was a drag but you did make it, hurrying out with Iida into the waiting dock where sleek black tribute cars were already idling in wait. Several people were standing in pairs, Aizawa and Yaoyorozu among them, and you recognized several from more recent Games.

  
You met your mentors tiredly and they both greeted you with empathy.

  
"I remember my first day of training was rough," Aizawa said, leading you into your car. "Two fights during lunch and an all-out brawl during last period."

  
"Did you join in?" Iida asked and you thought his tone was accusing.

  
Aizawa flashed him a snarky smile. "Nah, but Momo started a fight. Isn't that right?"

  
Yaoyorozu looked thoroughly embarrassed, crossing her arms and turning her head to the side. "That's not _entirely_ right but... well, technically, yes."

  
You blanched, sleepy eyes opening wide. "Really? You?"

  
Yaoyorozu crossed her legs, trying to remain poised. "Another tribute tried to take a machete I had made during quirk training. I thought he was going to stab me so I made another and decided taking the offensive was my best bet." She frowned. "It happened really fast. It wasn't my best judgement call."

  
"Were you punished?" Iida asked.

  
"Not really. Most of that's swept under the rug, maybe played on recaps during the actual Games for the audience to get some backstory," Aizawa interjected. Then he looked pointedly at you, his expression darkening. "Speaking of sweeping under the rug, we've got a bit of a scandal on our hands."

  
You fiddled with your hands, tangling your fingers. You felt the stares of Yaoyorozu and Iida boring into you, raising the temperature to an uncomfortable degree. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

  
" _You_ told him you're quirkless," Aizawa said, voice firm and disappointed, puzzled. "Why?"

  
Your lips flattened to a tight line. "I did think about it before I said it. I really did," you said slowly. "And it came down to this: is there any difference between a useless quirk and being quirkless?"

  
When the whole car just gave you deadpan looks, you quickly jumped to your own defense. "What? Is there? Really? You almost gave it away when he showed up the other night. You were _so_ close and I did wonder, 'Did Aizawa do that on purpose? Did he not want him to know I was quirkless? Or did he just not say it out loud for some reason?'"

  
"You're quirkless," Aizawa growled at you. "The female tribute from District Ao in the 132nd Hunger Games is quirkless. I've got a quirkless apprentice this year. There, I'm perfectly capable of saying it. I did not tell Hawks for a _reason_."

  
Your hackles rose even though the statement made you blood chill. So he wasn't supposed to know. Dammit. "What reason? You still haven't answered, what's the difference between a useless quirk and being quirkless?"

  
"There is a big difference," Yaoyorozu said suddenly, voice chilly and resigned. Glancing over at her, you found it hard to put a name to her expression.

  
Iida looked confused, glancing between you and Yaoyorozu, and Aizawa growled, "Yes, a huge difference. Especially to someone like Hawks."

  
You pulled an incredulous face. "What does that mean?"

  
Aizawa shook his head, turning to look out the window. Suddenly he seemed keen to drop the conversation. "Nothing you need to worry about. For now. You just need to focus on the Games, no distractions."

  
"For now," you repeated, insistent but aware you probably weren't going to get much more out of him. Then, "Will it mean anything at the Gala tomorrow night?"

  
Aizawa visibly flinched. " _Shit_."

  
"Yes, that might be a little bit of an issue," Yaoyorozu said, meeting his eyes steadily as they exchanged a look. "Not a big issue, just a little one."

  
"I'll make sure of that," Aizawa said and you weren't sure if it was directed at you or her. "I can't believe I forgot about that. I can't believe the Commission approved it. And to try it out this year of all years. _Dammit_. Just my luck."

  
"You can't have that bad of luck," Iida said to him, "Seeing as you won the Games."

  
Aizawa gave him a reproachful smile. "Good to hear you chalked that up to luck and not my skills... Hell, you're not wrong. I am pretty lucky."

  
"Will you at least answer what that's about?" you asked. "Hawks said a lot about luck at the parade last night and on the broadcast. I get he's probably a quirkless cultist but I've never gotten the feeling they care a lot about luck."

  
Aizawa shook his head. "Cultist, huh? Yeah, you could call him that. Sort of. He's big into luck, though. Real big into it. A luck cultist." He smirked but it was wan and faded. "That stupid bastard. I can't stand him."

  
"Can you answer the question?" you pleaded.

  
"The last quirkless victor won the Games over sixty years ago," Yaoyorozu said, voice stronger than before. Her expression was now one of determination, maybe a little anger. "In Tokyo they are considered immensely lucky tokens. That's not even strong enough a description--they're like... like national treasures. Yes, that's it. There's a lot of literature into the... statistics of quirkless victors and the Games. The odds are just very...not very good." She trailed off at the end, looking down.

  
"Dismal," Aizawa said, giving you a pat on the knee. "The odds are dismal. And they get smaller every year as the quirkless population shrinks and as the quirks compound and become stronger with each generation."

  
You followed Yaoyorozu's gaze to the floor. That was nothing you didn't already know. "But why is he so interested? Why him?"

  
Aizawa stared into space a moment then shrugged. "He's a product of the capital. Tokyo's golden boy. He was practically raised by the Commission. Of course he'd want a quirkless victor. It might be the only thing he wants that he doesn't have."

  
The conversation was dropped on that somber note. Yaoyorozu assured you that, yes, Hawks would be at the Gala tomorrow but that it things would remain within hand per Aizawa. Looking at your shaggy mentor, you wondered how in the world Mina and Aoyama were going to clean him up for a formal ball. You'd never been to one but you'd seen enough of them on TV, usually with victors, Commission members, heroes and other high ranking members of Tokyo society. Aizawa would fit like a square peg into a round hole in his current state.

  
The second day of training began easy enough, a solo class on plants with the instructor from yesterday--he had introduced himself as Shindo Yo. He was pleased to see you and even more pleased to realize you'd blocked out a total of three hours with him today. The third hour you had a guest. It was the dark-haired girl with reptilian teeth from yesterday--you thought her name was Setsuna. She looked surprised at the sight of you for one second then let her expression revert back to one of relaxed ease.

  
She said, "Hey," as she sat down in the desk next to you.

  
You responded with, "Hi." You weren't sure if anything else was required but you felt you owed her...something. She'd stood up for you yesterday and gotten Amajiki off your back. 

  
The instructor dove right into desert plants before you could come up with anything. Before starting today, he had taken a moment to run by a study plan with you since you had several hours allotted to his class. He had mapped out all the major biomes that most often came up in the Games and had a list of basic plants for each. In addition, he would briefly touched on other survival skills per each arena type.

  
Deserts were not your strong suit. You didn't think that Ao's mountains received a ton of rainfall based on the scrubby, rocky nature of the landscape but it didn't remotely compare to a scientifically classified desert's measly ten inches per year. Plants were few and far between and water was even scarcer. Juxtaposed, your stony mountains were like a lush paradise.

  
"Do either of you have any idea where to find water in the desert?" Shindo asked.

  
"Cactuses," you replied quickly. "Or, cacti, I guess."

  
"Wrong," he declared then tipped his head towards Setsuna. "How about you? Do you have a guess?"

  
She gave you a glance, face cool and unreadable, then said, "I've read that the best way to find water is to follow animal trails and birds." Quietly, she added, "Breaking into cacti is difficult and eating the skin can cause you to get sick. You're bound to lose more water than the cactus has to offer."

  
You perked up, intrigued. That was news to you. Did she have some knowledge of botany as well? You couldn't think of which district she was from and, besides that, couldn't think of any deserts in Japan.

  
Shindo looked quite pleased. "Very good! And you're right, eating cacti is more liable to make you sick than quench your thirst. Do you know which animals are best at finding water?"

  
She thought about it a moment. "Um... burrows? Are they some kind of small horse, I think?"

  
The praise she received made you simmer with just a touch of jealousy. "Yes! Well, they're not horses--they're donkeys. But whatever! Yes, finding a burrow trail is the most surefire way to find water."

  
Despite the attention, Setsuna continued to look passive and unbothered. It made you a little uneasy knowing she was fairly intelligent. Her dark eyes, catching yours from time to time, were chilly and you swore she knew something you didn't. Honestly, she seemed to know a lot that you didn't if the rest of your plants lesson was anything to go on.

  
You were thankful she was only scheduled with Shinso for an hour but as she walked out the door, you followed her with the excuse you were going to the restroom. In the hallway, you worked up the courage to say, "Thank you for yesterday. I appreciate you getting Amajiki off my back. You didn't have to do that."

  
For the second time that morning, she looked a little surprised. This time, she didn't slide back into her cool persona but instead said, "You're welcome."

  
You both stood there for a second, she blinked, then you said, "Well, um... Thanks again. I'll see you later--"

  
"Speaking of later," Setsuna suddenly piped up, turning to face you square on, "If you'd really like to show your appreciation, team up with me in the arena."

  
You should have been prepared for this sort of assertion after yesterday's hounding but you still found yourself wanting to shrink away. Why hadn't you asked Aizawa about allies? Why had that not come up in conversation at all? "Oh, I, um... Well, I--"

  
"Be my ally," she repeated, more earnest. "You get an ally with a quirk and I get an ally with a sponsor. We both benefit."

  
You stuttered some more, prompting her to ask with a frown, "Oh, have you already decided to team up with someone?"

  
You didn't know if you should answer the question but thankfully she suggested for you, "It's your district-mate, isn't it? That wolf kid with the engine quirk."

  
You found yourself nodding, made very agreeable by the uncertainty every turn of this conversation placed you in. Should you tell her the truth? Could you trust her? If she rescinded her offer, she'd know you were in it alone and might take advantage of that. Oh, why hadn't Aizawa given advice on any of this? "Yeah. Yeah, we're allies."

  
Her frown grew a little deeper but she shrugged and said, "That's too bad. Well, if you change your mind the offer's still on the table."

  
Aizawa had neglected the topic of allies because you'd been so caught up about Hawks, about tonight. With everything going on, Aizawa hadn't had time or the wherewithal to give you instruction on allies because all your focus had been on Hawks.

  
Stupidly, you asked after her, "Don't you want me to introduce you to Hawks? Like the rest of them? He might sponsor you without you having to ally yourself to me."

  
That made her pause and turn her head. Her reptilian eye, the pupil a smidge too long and narrow to be completely human, was sharp and cold. For the third time, she looked surprised. "I _want_ you as an ally. I don't care if you're quirkless, going it alone in the arena's a bad idea for anyone. Besides, you're the only one he's going to sponsor this year. He wouldn't give me a second glance."

  
It burst out before you could stop it, a single question to two of her statements. "But why? I'm just a burden. There's no way I'm going to win!"

  
She snorted at you and turned her back, walking away and leaving you alone. "You probably won't win but you'll get farther than I will. I don't have any allies. And I'm not like the rest of them. Not even close."

  
You thought about her cryptic words the rest of the day even as Mina was putting the finishing touches on your hair and makeup. She looked tired but quite pleased with herself as she said, "There. Perfect. Again. Here, do a twirl for me. Please, just let me bask in it for a minute."

  
She'd put in a lot of hard work and it had paid off. You had to admit that as you spun slowly in front of the three full-length mirrors set up beneath the white-hot lights that had begun to make you sweat. It was a rendition of the snow woman's outfit, white with pale blue snowflakes, but this getup was made for dancing. The material for both the blouse and culottes was filmy and gossamer, the same as the kimono that still lay upon your dresser at The 501, but the looser fit would allow for a wide range of movements that were simply impossible in the kimono. Mina had gone for a little less traditional this time, too, allowing some skin to be exposed on your neck and shoulders.

  
"It's modest enough for Aizawa, which is a high bar to hit, but pretty enough for...well, dancing," she said. You could tell she was trying to keep a positive face but something was bothering her. She had looked similarly shaken after the parade and you wondered if what had happened to Amajiki was still eating at her. Aoyama had seemed less upset tonight but you hadn't seen him for very long before he whisked Iida off for his own makeover.

  
You didn't mull over it too long before you asked in a whisper, "Mina, are you all right?"

  
She looked startled, dark eyes widening and mouth quirking into a guilty expression. You'd caught her. But she laughed you off, asking, "What do you mean? I'm fine! Just tired, that's all. Don't you worry about me--"

  
"I have a question," you interrupted suddenly. It had come back to you suddenly and you wanted to know, right now for whatever reason. It felt... important. "The other day, getting ready for the parade, you said you didn't move to Tokyo. Not really. What did you mean?"

  
Now she looked really frazzled, maybe horrified. She couldn't even try to laugh it off, the frown and eyes that were suddenly averted into the corner. It must be something bad to tear her eyes away from your gorgeous outfit.

  
"Please, what did you mean?" you persisted, leaning forward. This wasn't normal for you but her underlying aura of unease all evening had you on edge. For some reason, you felt this was somehow important. "You can tell me. Please, Mina."

  
She'd closed her eyes tight but finally she waved a hand to assuage you, making a shushing motion with a finger to her lips, and bent her head right next to yours. "You can't tell anyone I've shared this with you. It's going to be very hard, very hard, but you're going to have to pretend like you know nothing about it." She paused. "Are you sure you want to know?"

  
You didn't hesitate, shaking your head vigorously and whispering back, "Yes. It must be important."

  
There was no way you could have connected the dots. You maybe had the most vague awareness that the dots existed but you had no reason to tie Mina's throwaway, albeit somewhat cryptic statement with her current mood slump. Truthfully, you had not the vaguest notion of how it could possibly tie to you but you found your heart sinking lower and lower into your stomach as Mina began, speaking quickly and quietly:

  
"I lived in Ao until I was eighteen and then I was brought to Tokyo. It was that year's victory tour and I happened to be spotted in the crowd by some Games staffer. I'm a bit hard to miss, you know? But he saw me and stopped me after and asked how old I was. I told him and he said that I must have one more year of Hunger Games left. I didn't know what to say and then he asked how many tickets I had in the reaping. I told him that--" Here, Mina paused a beat, inhaling a little shakily. "--I had a hundred-and-sixty tickets in the bowl that year."

  
"A hundred-and-sixty?" you blanched, shocked. "You shouldn't be able to have more than ninety-six... How did you have a hundred-and-sixty?"

  
She made another hushing motion with her finger. "I was filing under my name and my brother's. It was illegal but I needed that money for my family's bakery."

  
The bakery. The one with the pink eaves. That's why she'd mentioned that.

  
"Your brother?" you asked, a bit dreadful of her answer already. "Why did you file under his name?"

  
"He's dead," Mina said and you saw her blink a tear away. You could've guessed. It wasn't uncommon to lose children in Ao what with the lacking medical supplies, food and harsh weather. There were some nicer parts, like the apartment you and your mother lived in, but you were the lucky few. Most scraped by on far, far less. "He's dead but we needed the money and we'd never filed his death certificate with the district. So I impersonated him for tesserae. I just dropped off his files when I took in my own and said they were for my brother."

  
"But why did you admit that to the tour official?" you asked, still confused. "You knew that would get you in trouble."

  
"Because he looked me up," she said with a whimper. "He looked up my whole family and he thought it was strange that my brother filed for tesserae but there were no records of him for school enrollment for the last seven years, no yearly physicals from the local medicine woman, no quirk testing or anything. Nothing but tesserae. And he came to our bakery and demanded to know where my brother was. My parents didn't know I'd done it, they never questioned the money, and they were horrified. They thought we were all going to die for... for treason, or something." Mina closed her eyes again, brow wrinkled as she relayed the memory. "The official had come alone and he told us he'd forget about it if... if I came to Tokyo with him. He'd even... he'd even give my parents money for me. A fee."

  
You'd been surprised Setsuna had asked you to be her ally when it shouldn't have surprised you at all seeing as Hawks, money fountain Hawks, was your sponsor. You were shocked that Mina was telling you she'd been brought to Tokyo in exchange for money when really that shouldn't shock you in the least.

  
"I was bought," Mina told you weakly. Her eyes were open again, searching yours. She looked so tired. "I was sold to a man in Tokyo. I'm worth, heh... I think it was three hundred thousand yen."

  
As you stared back, mind blank with pity and sorrow for her, she grabbed your hands in hers, holding them close. With a staid tone, she hissed, "But what happened to me isn't the point. It's you I'm worried about."

  
You blinked at her. "Me? What about me?"

  
"I'm afraid the same thing will happen to you," she continued, slowly taking on a very grim expression. It was as if she were grieving for you already. "I think Hawks is going to do the same thing to you. Maybe tonight. Maybe if you... when you win. I think he's going to try to buy you, too."

  
You felt the world begin to crumble beneath you even as you stood, quiet and steady, on solid ground. The lights from Mina's studio were so hot, so blazing hot that you could feel sweat trickling down your back.

  
Mina's expression hardened. "In fact, I don't think it. I _know_ it. I _know_ that's what he'll do. He's all about you if his stupid broadcast is any indication. He wants a quirkless victor not just for Tokyo but for himself."

  
Your throat felt dry, parched. "What can I do about it? What am I supposed to do?"

  
You were going to be spending the evening with this man she was speaking of, this insane man who was willing to buy you. How could he? How had Mina been bought? That was trafficking and it was illegal. There had been an incident in Ao a few years ago that now came to mind: two missing Ao women that had appeared in Aka three months later. They'd been smuggled out, lied to about being given freedom, only to be sold into abject slavery in a different district. The perpetrators, two twenty-something men from yet another district, Ki, had been found and promptly executed on live TV. You'd watched it in school. Everyone had been required to watch.

  
"There's nothing you can do," Mina said and although her words were harsh her tone was so gentle, so sweet. "I'm sorry and I don't mean to upset you, but we can't do anything. No one can. Not only is he from Tokyo but he's _Hawks_. He can do whatever he wants." Her next words made the earth slip from beneath you as you found yourself swirling in some strange, bizarre new reality. "Please, don't worry too much about it. I'm sure he'll be kind to you. I've met him a few times and he seems nice enough. Women love him, I've heard. It's really not so bad, not once you get used to it. It will be all right. You're going to be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so Hawks wasn't here but we did get some reeeaaal juicy info on him right??
> 
> without saying, next chapter is the gala itself. get ready, Monday's coming--!


	10. Fiery Foxtrot, Winter's Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finished early, wanted to share

You were being taken to an entirely new location for the Sponsor's Gala. You had suspected it might be held at the Wash Wash Arena where your styling was done but after collecting herself and ridding her cheeks of tears, Mina had ushered you out to find Aoyama and Iida before leading you to your car.

  
Aizawa, Yaoyorozu and Ms. Midnight were inside. They were dressed formally, the women in evening gowns while Aizawa was in a suit and vest. His hair hadn't been styled, just pulled back in a low ponytail and it befitted a surprising elegance on him. Casual elegance, you'd call it. Yaoyorozu's dress was a lovely convergence of lace and satin with a bit of sparkle to catch the eye. Squinting in the dark car, you thought it might be silver. Ms. Midnight's neckline plunged to her naval and the back was open which left little to the imagination. While she skimped on the dress, a great deal of effort had been put into her hair which now cascaded in luscious ebony curls over her bare shoulders. You wondered briefly how in the world the gown, minuscule as it was, managed to stay up.

  
Iida was perhaps the least transformed. His hair, usually kept crisp and formal, was in its usual style. He'd been put in a midnight blue suit with a matching tie, a wolf's face akin to his mask near the tipping. He looked very handsome and very nervous.

  
Honestly, they all seemed a bit nervous, each in their own way. You were acutely aware everyone was avoiding looking at you, eyes shifting to the neon signs flashing past, the crowd of Tokyo residents immersed in their own night on the town. Some of these residents waved, most were too engrossed in their own comings and goings to notice yours.

  
How envious you were. You'd give quite a lot to have that sort of freedom, the liberation of ignorance and apathy.

  
Finally, you said, "Don't you think Mina did a good job? I mean, just look at it. It's beautiful." You stretched your legs out, letting the loose fabric of the culottes hang to the floor.

  
They all humored you now, the women with soft murmurs of affirmation, and they managed to not look away even when done with admiring the outfit. Well, that was one step in the right direction.

  
While you worked yourself up to ask the most obvious question, feeling extremely drained even before the night really began, Iida took initiative and asked, "So what are we expected to do?"

  
Aizawa couldn't pass up low-hanging fruit and said, "What? You've never been to a gala in Ao? What sort of backwoods bumpkin are you?" When neither you nor Iida, nor Yaoyorozu or Ms. Midnight even cracked a smile, he let out a sigh. "I'm kidding, of course. First of all, and I get that this is difficult, you need to lighten up. It's a _party_. It's supposed to be _fun_. Not fun for you, per se, but the sponsors are expecting a nice evening."

  
"This sounds miserable," you said.

  
Aizawa gave you a glance, one that read, More so for you than anyone else. I'm sorry. But he said, "I know. And it's unfortunately just going to be. You're going to have to put on your own little shows tonight because you are the entertainment."

  
That wasn't new. You'd begun being entertainment for these Tokyo degenerates the moment your name was drawn from the glass bowl, read on live television for the nation to hear while your mother burst into tears. Before that, you were a second class citizen, a laborer whose worth extended only to what and however long she could produce goods for the capital. Still entertainment, you supposed, just in a more removed sense.

  
"It's going to be difficult," Ms. Midnight said and you perked up at the sympathy you heard in her tone. "But we'll be there to help if things get too out of hand. You're not going in alone tonight."

  
Speaking of your name in the glass bowl, your hatred of the Tokyo rep had waned extensively. You thought it started slipping away when she came to rescue you from the crowd, furthered when she told Hawks off at the window. You couldn't deny that you were glad to have her along tonight. Surely between her and Aizawa, Hawks could be warded off.

  
Ah, the elephant in the room. If you were honest, you'd admit that you had been trying your damnedest not to think about him since hearing about his horrendous broadcast. Tonight, however, you would be seeing a lot of Hawks. Likely, he would dominate your time. 

  
The thought made you cringe, imagining his suave, stupid Tokyo boy face, its smug smile the capital was in love with. Your only consolation was that it wasn't as if you had a line of sponsors waiting for their chance to meet-and-greet.

  
You thought back to when you first realized he'd broadcasted your quirklessness to all of Japan--your rage. The sentiment of lunging at him for all you were worth and wringing his neck was still there but it had somehow, very quickly faded from the overwhelming tide it had been into an insipid undercurrent. Were you afraid? Maybe. Well, why? You were bound to die anyways. What's the worst that could happen?

  
It was when you stepped into the Gala hall, yet another magnificent structure you maybe could remember hazily from TV throughout the years, and caught sight of all the officials, peace officers, and heroes, all visibly and distinctly unarmed, that you found an answer to your question.

  
It's not that they would kill you if you attempted to assassinate Hawks. No, they wouldn't even come close. Instead they would apprehend you, of course, and in the struggle, whether you struggled or not, you would manage to inflict upon yourself some very extensive wounds. Scratches, heavy bruising, possibly a broken bone or two. They would be sorry it had happened, truly sorry, but their need to keep Hawks safe was paramount and you gave them no choice.

  
Oh, he was a pro hero with extensive battle training? Huh? He'd faced countless villains with high security code level quirks? Hawks, _the_ Hawks, number three pro hero? Oh, but he _was_ in real danger. Something had to be done.

  
They would blame you if you went into the arena injured and there was not getting out of the arena, regardless of your physical health. The real danger was the implication that anyone could disrespect the capital or its hero dogs in any way.

  
 _What, your third ranked pro hero couldn't take on some puny, underfed district girl_?

  
No, they'd never think that. The media would spin it correctly, and that was the wrong take. None of these mindless Tokyo zombies would come to that conclusion. Their vapid adoration at the station, their ignorance that you were going to be waltzing the worst dance of your life tonight as they wandered the streets of Tokyo, told you they were too far gone.

  
Ao might understand. They might hear the fearful undertone, the words unspoken in the reporting broadcast. It would be lost on Tokyo.

  
It was quite suddenly that you found yourself on the dance floor.

  
You'd lost sight of Aizawa and Yaoyorozu maybe, oh... twenty minutes ago? You'd hung back near the feast of snack foods, hors' oeuvres, little skewers of some strange meat Aizawa had indicated was "capybara" for a full quarter hour before Aizawa nudged you out onto the dance floor.

  
It had taken you by surprise enough that you'd stumbled, shooting a mortified look back at him. Through your makeup, you'd frowned and hissed, "But isn't it best that I--"

  
"It's best you get out there," he'd responded subtly, gently. His eyes were downcast, a sober tightness to his mouth, but he tried to sound encouraging. "Give him a taste. Just a taste. I'll be right here if things go too far. Just... put a finger up to your nose, just like this, natural, and I'll come running. You'll be fine."

  
Do I have to? you wanted to beg. Give him a taste? A _taste_?!

  
You wanted to plead that, no, you couldn't. This man wanted to own you. He was going to traffic you, just like what had been done to Mina. Did Aizawa know? Did Yaoyorozu know? She seemed to be on friendly terms with Mina. They knew she was from Ao. The three had dropped throwaway comments only an Ao resident would know about in conversation. They had to know. You felt certain they did.

  
And here was Aizawa, fully aware of your situation, throwing you to the wolves--or the birds, take your pick. For the first time since the point you'd come to an understanding about him, in the full three days you'd known him which somehow, impossibly, felt like three decades, your trust in him faltered.

  
You let yourself be swept into the swirling mass of dancing bodies, a few hundred lovely kimonos and dresses, men in suits and formal Japanese attire, and thought, It's not that he doesn't understand, he just doesn't care. You weren't as alike as you'd thought. The realization weighed you down further, sank your spirits straight into the pits.  
You were truly alone.

  
And then you weren't. He found you like a needle finds a groove, like a fool finds bad fortune. You were the fool, perhaps, and your bad fortune found you in the guise of a handsome, egregiously handsome, blonde pro hero with crimson wings and a smile that should have had you melting into the floor. The rest of the ballroom was eyeing the two of you now, scorching your skin through your beautiful snow woman outfit that wasn't so lovely anymore now that it had attracted the wrong person.

  
For a heartbeat, you wondered if Mina meant for it to be so beautiful just for Hawks. The notion was dismissed as soon as her tear-stained face came to mind, swiping her pink cheeks as she admitted that she was little more than another Tokyo import. 

  
That painting of Sika that had caught Izuku's eye in that Tokyo gallery--that was an import, something District Ao had offered up to the capital in exchange for an orange, a vial of rationed medicine, a frilly skirt or heeled shoes that were pawned for food. Mina wasn't an import, she was a human being, and so were you.

  
He held you courteously, not too close, and started off the conversation with a riveting, "Well, hello."

  
You swallowed and hoped it wasn't audible. Surely not, with all the bustle of fabric and clicking shoes and the band playing softly in the corner. "Hello," you answered quietly.

  
He immediately broke that courtesy, leaning close with that dazzling smile, close enough his warm breath tickled your neck. "Sorry, birdy, didn't quite catch that."

  
The whole room spun, all the colors blurring, and then you found yourself leaned backwards so far blood was rushing to your head, Hawks' nose in your face.

  
"But I caught you," he said, pulling up back to your feet and letting you sink back to a relatively comfortable arm's length.

  
Oh, how you wished you were in that corner with the band. You wished they'd stop playing so you'd have an excuse to end this already horrid dance. No way did you want to be twirled and dipped again, find his face in yours.

  
But you said, as composed as you could manage, "Why did you tell everyone about... about my secret?"

  
You tried not to sound vulnerable, you did, but there was no way around the fact that he'd taken your greatest vice and tossed it to the world, to your rival tributes, as if it were yesterday's news.

  
Adding salt to the wound, he gave a sheepish smile, actually taking a hand off your shoulder to rub the back of his neck. How you wished Mina had gone full-modest, no skin at all. "Oh, that was a secret? I'm sorry, lovebird."

  
That undercurrent of wanting to strangle him was gaining momentum. It was a tide and it was rising from your toes to your ankles.

  
"I'm kidding, dove. I'm kidding," he quickly reassured, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze. With a sigh, he continued, voice noticeably lower, "Look, I had to do it, okay? I was blackmailed into it."

  
You perked up, genuine taken aback. "Blackmailed? Wait, what? How? Who?"

  
Who in the world would have known that, how would they have blackmailed the number three and most important--why would they want one of the biggest events in recent Games history spoiled like a quirkless tribute? That was a big deal, a bigger deal here in Tokyo apparently, so why...?

  
"Oh, you know. The Commission, heh." He said it with such a tossed, mild disdain that had you shaking your head. No, you did not know. Not at all.

  
"But... why?" you asked, quickly adding, "And how did they even know? We were alone. There was no one around to--"

  
You recalled how anxious you'd been, throwing glances left and right as he blabbered on to you a full thirty seconds in the coliseum in a tone loud enough you worried someone might overhear. It seemed as though you'd been right to worry.

  
"I forgot I was bugged. For the event. Or, my headset was on so I could communicate with them if anything went wrong--which it did, haha--and I just sorta forgot to turn the mic off." He scrunched his eyes up, looking very apologetic indeed. "I'm real sorry, dove, I am. It was a stupid mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen, honest."

  
You just stared at him, managing to keep your feet moving in rhythm but little else. You were lucky the band was feeling slow at the moment, keeping the tempo at a drag and allowing the dancers to follow suit. They'd changed songs twice and you began keeping a running tally on the number of pieces played before you were set free.

  
"But why?" you repeated, still thoroughly bewildered. Why would the Commission insist he reveal that information? And what was it they'd blackmailed him with?

  
"Oh, you know. To be fair and all. Can't show favoritism, not even to your number three pro that you raised from a tiny tater-tot." He removed his hand from your shoulder again, this time to place it parallel to the ground at about waist-height. "You know, they picked me up when I was just this small? Man, I was such a cute kid."

  
You weren't sure what a tater-tot was but you just nodded along as if you did. You wanted to keep this conversation on the meat, not go off on a happy little tangent. "Oh, really? But fairness? Is that really all?" You opted for a little assertion, tipping your chin down to look him in the eyes. They were bright, liquid gold alight with an inexplicable interest, a fascination perhaps, in you.

  
Maybe, just maybe, you could talk your way to the bottom of that fascination. Why did he want a quirkless victor? _Why you_?

  
"It's not that fair, really, to reveal to everyone what my quirk is when the rest get to keep theirs a secret," you said, voice kept soft. You wanted to hiss, spit it in his face.

  
"I know, dove, I know," he said sweetly, giving you a somber smile. Again, he seemed very much sorry. Putting you into a gentle twirl, he said, "It's hard to understand but it's just how it's done. It's what had to be done. I can't say sorry enough, I really can't. I didn't want to do it."

  
He looked sorry, he sounded sorry but you didn't believe he was sorry. It's what had to be done? What, he disagreed with what was apparently the Commissions' decision and he was still going to defend them? He was already taking on a tall order deciding to sponsor a quirkless tribute through the Games and now he was letting everyone pile onto his bad odds?

  
"Do you forgive me?" He was looking at you in earnest, nimbly guiding you around a couple that strayed too close.

  
It was a wonder they'd managed to get anywhere near you, honestly, when Hawks' wings were flared out as they were. Not overtly, no, but it was now you realized you were seeing red on all sides. Was he trying to surround you with his wings?

  
You tried to step further out from him but only managed to trip over yourself and stumble, giving him ample opportunity to catch you once more.

  
"Caught ya again," he gloated, smile sugary as you pulled yourself upright. He quickly brought you closer than you'd like, wings near to encroaching on your personal space.

  
"But come on, dove. Do you forgive me? Please? I am sorry, truly."

  
It was a bit infantalizing, the tone, the insistence, but you gathered your wits enough to say with courtesy, "Yes, I forgive you." He smiled jubilantly, a big grin breaking out over near his whole face, but not quite. "On one condition."

  
That smile didn't quite, just didn't hardly reach his eyes. They were bright, molten, yet somehow just a tad bit cool. It was like a splash of cold mountain water on a summer day, the feeling you get when your blood chills. The sight itself made your veins turn to ice, just for a moment, and as you felt the softest brush of a feather against your forearm you forced yourself to swallow down your fear.

  
This was the man who wanted to purchase you. He wanted to own you, do heaven-knows-what to you, keep you like a pet or an item or a slave. You didn't know. Mina had resigned herself to the idea, thought he would be alright to you. Clearly she'd never seen these gold, gunmetal-cold eyes up close. Perhaps her tune would change.

  
Before you could unfold your tongue and lay out your condition, something besides velvet soft feathers brushed against your arm. It was a hand, gentle but firm, and an equally reassuring voice said, "If you don't mind, I'll be stepping in for this dance."

  
Hawks' gaze turned on this person, the ever-so-anxious Iida who was holding it together remarkably well, you thought, under such sudden and intense pressure.

  
"Stepping in?" he asked quietly, cold enough to match his eyes. He hadn't adopted his usual warmth, no camera dazzle, and that frightened you a little further. Why were you suddenly so frightened of him?

  
Iida nodded, hesitating just a hair, saying, "Yes, the song's changed. It's The Penguins. Earth Angel. See?" He held one finger up, pointing at the ceiling as if to emphasize his point.

  
It was such a ridiculous thing to say--and how had he even known that? What? Wait, what?--that you actually managed to crack a smile. Maybe it was from nerves, maybe from the relief of seeing someone who looked normal, normal and warm, but you laughed a bit, just a tiny bit.

  
You wished you hadn't not a moment later because as Hawks' gave Iida a cutting, polite little growl, "I don't think so. Maybe next time, kid," he turned his eyes to you and they weren't cold anymore. They were alight, glittering, burning. He could consume you with those eyes, you swore, and your blood rushed cold again. You had goosebumps but you hoped he wouldn't notice.

  
"So what was that condition, dove?" He smiled at you, dreamily, and laughed himself. "Haven't forgotten already, have you?"

  
He was hot and cold like ice and fire. The whiplash was cutting, stung you in a way you'd never been stung before, and the fear continued to fester. You weren't aware of it, lamented the moment for years and years after, but that fear would never really go away. It would become chronic, an insidious malady that colored the rest of your life a few shades darker.

  
"I--you have to tell me--" You stuttered off, trailing to silence. Had you actually had a stipulation in mind? Had the swap from one Hawks to another made it slip from your conscious or had it never been there to begin with? This would become chronic, too, this self-doubt.

  
Give him a little taste, Aizawa had said. It was more that you were getting a taste tonight, a sampling of what the rest of your life, what little remained, would be after the Games.

  
"Swear you'll always tell me the truth," you finally croaked. You didn't even like it, your one stipulation, your one velvet coup for any semblance of power when it came to this man. It just happened that was all your fried brain could come up with in the moment. "I... there needs to be trust. I have to be able to trust you. For the Games."

  
He smiled some more, warm like honey, and answered, "I'd never lie to you, dove. You can trust me. You can always trust me. I'll give you all I've got, money and otherwise, and I'll always do everything I can to keep you safe."

  
Otherwise. That was ominous, menacing in the same gentle way his satin-soft feathers were brushing more and more against your arms, your shoulders. You were seeing nothing but red, red and Hawks, as he took you across the dance floor blind as a bat. Everyone knew to get out of the way, it seemed. Of course they did. He was Hawks.

  
You counted twenty-eight songs before a refined voice came over the intercom, announcing demurely this was the final song of the night and thanking everyone for attending.

You'd spent all twenty-eight and the one with Hawks, spinning, sashaying, always keeping it a bit slow. You thought it was for you; you didn't dance much in Ao besides weddings and none of your local dances were as rigid and cordial as these. Yaoyorozu had walked you through a few steps earlier today and the night before, just so you could keep rhythm.

  
You'd stepped on his toes, by accident and not, enough that you knew it must hurt but he didn't look the slightest bit irritated, never chided you, not once. You wish you'd stepped on them a few dozen times more, maybe a stomp or two.

  
He talked the whole damn time. You were to learn very quickly that Hawks was a talker, an interminable talker, so much that you could twist it to your advantage; he was excellent at one-sided conversations. He talked about the weather, his job, his investment hobby, his childhood, his hero colleagues, his love of Tokyo. There were two things, and you tested it to be sure, that he did not speak about: the districts and the Commission.

  
"So what is the Commission like?" you said blithely, gathering enough of your wits to formulate a hypothesis and put it to the test.

  
He'd rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Oh, them. Come on, dove, you don't wanna hear about them. Endeavor, though? Oh, let me tell you. Just last week, he and I--"

  
Off he went again. But you'd proved your point. He wouldn't talk about the Commission. Did he not like them? He'd defended them while also making clear he didn't much support their decision to oust your quirklessness. It was more than likely he was bugged, again, but it's not like he would admit that to you.

  
Then you tried, "How about district Ki? Don't they have the black sand beaches?"

  
He laughed gently, rubbing your hand with his fingers, your arms with his feathers. You had been trying to control your shivers all night. "Kuro, lovebird, but close."

  
You threw out, "Don't they dance on the beaches in winter? To ward the tsunamis away?"

  
He smiled but, once more, it didn't quite reach his eyes. "They do."

  
"And do they swim it sometimes? Or take boats to the mainland?"

  
Here was the kicker, the bait, and you learned that Hawks played dumber than he was because he didn't bite.

  
"Can't say, sweetheart. I've never heard of that. Probably just a inter-district rumor, you know how those are. So anyways, about my growing up--"

  
He seemed to be trying very hard to converse, a valiant attempt to tell you all about him in the measly span of a single evening, but the topics were forced. He'd been raised by the Commission and you couldn't imagine he actually wanted to talk about it. He put a rosy spin on it, sure, telling you it wasn't so bad, that it turned him into the hero he was today, but it wasn't something one would belie to a new acquaintance.

  
Of course, he probably thought more of you than a mere acquaintance. He was going to buy you, Mina was sure, and you suspected he was projecting quite a lot, trying to make you something that you weren't. This was his first and last chance until after the arena to see you, assuming you pulled through. 

  
The final song ended and still he held onto your hands, leaning close as you realized you were in a corner of the magnificent ballroom near one of the windows as grand as those in The 501, and whispered very softly, breath hot on the shell of your ear, "I could take you away from this, you know. Steal you right out this window and fly into the night. They'd never find us. I wouldn't let them."

  
His voice was different, more mellow than it had been all evening, like he was intoning a sweet promise, maybe pleading you to let him do it. You froze up, too bewildered to come up with a proper response, and turned your head slightly towards that window. So that was all that stood between you and freedom--well, not freedom, not really. It would be just another type of prison. Perhaps, at least, in that prison, you weren't nearly guaranteed to die within the next week or so. 

  
"All you have to say is yes, lovedove," he murmured. "I shouldn't do it, I really should not do it, but I will."

  
You couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell if he was hot or cold Hawks, but the breath on your nape was warm and the idea, the relief of escaping this, made you want to melt. You believed him, too. You knew in your bones, somehow you knew, that he would do it. All you had to do was whisper back the softest, _Yes_.

  
He told you he'd be honest with you, tell you the truth, your one exercise of power that he would allow. He'd sworn to you he would.

  
But then Aizawa's voice was there, cutting through the satin tension with an iron, "No."

  
A rough grip replaced the plumy touch of Hawks' feathers, tugging you out of Hawks' arms onto your own two feet. Now you stood facing him, the man you'd spent all night with, the one you wanted to strangle deep, deep down. This was the only person who could _and_ wanted to save you, from the Games at least. It seemed he wanted to steal you away, the easy way out. As you took in a gasping breath, exhaling his scent which you didn't even realize was overwhelming you, you gained clarity, like your head was suddenly back on your shoulders. You took back what you'd thought about Aizawa earlier--he did care, he truly did as he stood glaring down Japan's number three hero, Tokyo's golden boy, the man who had all the power in the world and a metaphorical knife at Aizawa's throat.

  
It wasn't just you who was depending on Hawks. To fulfill his role as your mentor, Aizawa had to as well.

  
How humiliated he must feel, how wretched, as he growled, "That's enough. You've had her all evening. You've kept anyone else from coming anywhere near her. Now you better own up on it." His frown deepened, voice grating as he finished with, "Anything she needs, she gets. That's what you owe her. That's the price you'll pay."

  
Mina was worth three hundred thousand and you would be worth whatever it took to get you through the Games. You weren't livestock, Ms. Midnight had said and you realized she was standing at your back, arm lacing through yours and tugging to you her.

  
Did she care? Aizawa did, you were watching that unfold here and now, and as Yaoyorozu and Iida stepped next to you you had to admit that, yes, they did all care. They cared very much and although they didn't like their options they were doing their best. They could maybe, possibly get you through the Games but they couldn't guarantee you anything on the other side.

  
For the rancor quite suddenly directed at him, Hawks took it all in stride. You wondered why in the world the peace officers, the Games officials, the Commission were letting their golden boy be cornered like this.

  
"It's my pleasure," he said, directing a sweet smile at you. He was warm Hawks now but you could sense the stiffness in Iida's posture as he bravely stood alongside you. You wondered if he saw it, too, the hot and the cold. "The cost doesn't matter. To me, you're priceless."

  
In any other situation, the sentiment might be touching but the truth of this game was that a lot of money was going to be spent, _a lot_ , and all for the roundabout purpose of your purchase. He was going to be your next prison, granted you managed to survive this one. His golden eyes would be your shackles, his smile that kept everyone in a daze the key you could never grasp. You'd resisted the urge to shudder all night but now you permitted it, shaking from your head to your toes, making the gossamer fabric of your getup flutter.

  
Hawks just laughed. "Someone walking over your grave? Don't worry, lovebird, you won't be ending up there for a long time, a very long time. Not if I can help it."

  
"You can," Ms. Midnight said beside you, voice low and full of tempered malice. Forget the crowd, this was the most venomous you'd seen her yet. "You can and you will."

  
"Yes," Yaoyorozu agreed, trying to give her words an edge. "You'll sponsor her. You'll do all you can to help her."

  
Again, Hawks laughed. "Help her, help us all. Yeah, sure. Anything and everything. You can stop asking, stop _telling_ me. I'll take care of it, don't worry."

  
They began to pull you away as a group, Aizawa turning his back on Hawks and following the rear, but before you were out of earshot Hawks called, "I'll see you on the other side, dove! Well, I'll be seeing you a lot before then--TV and everything, you know. So, I guess you'll see me on the other side!" And just before you were out the door, "Remember! I'd have done it! I'd have done it in a heartbeat! All you had to do was ask! I wouldn't lie to you!"

  
He was a mess. He was a duality, a switch that flipped on a dime that you couldn't pin down. He seemed out-of-touch, maybe possessive, a bit obsessive. He was too friendly, overshared, made promises he was unlikely to keep. He was gold, warm and rich, metallic and cold. He liked to talk, endlessly, about anything and didn't even need a response to keep going. The only things he would not talk about were the Commission and other districts, his two limits you could find tonight.

  
Fate willing that you somehow managed to pull through the Games, you were going to be subject to this man, this freak, for the rest of your life. He would own you, whether legally or not. It didn't seem to matter. Laws in Ao, laws in Aka, Ki, maybe any district... they didn't appear to apply in Tokyo. It happened to Mina, everyone knew, and everyone seemed to know it was going to happen to you, too.

  
Not for the last time, you wondered whether you'd rather die in the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, hawks. he's here one moment, then gone. our bipolar, yandere prince, ugh. next chapter is interviews (probably pretty quick, honestly) then the games are on!
> 
> holy, I started writing this just this morning and somehow busted it out all in one day. to think, I was worried I'd miss my Monday due date!! my poor pharmacology, my poor pathophys. well, time to study lol, hope you enjoyed~


	11. Dread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooow, finally >150k words on this account with this chapter. Very proud of that haha

You soothed your frayed nerves by reading Izuku's note again and telling yourself there was no way in hell, no way, he'd let you be bought and sold to some Tokyo jackass like Hawks. He wouldn't let you be sold at all, period. Speaking of, who would Hawks even buy you from? Would he offer your mother money as Mina's captor had? Would he offer Izuku money?

  
Oh, that'd be about the last thing he ever did. The foreign sound of Izuku's tirade becoming more familiar with each re-read of the note, you imagined your big brother clocking the number three right in the jaw at the heinous suggestion of selling you. You'd seen Izuku punch on TV and it was no joke. He'd probably call him a villain, hit him again. You'd be standing in the wings (ugh) and it would be magnificent. It might even make the immense discomfort of tonight worth it.

  
You fell asleep playing the fantasy over and over. It eventually turned into a nightmare, one where before Izuku could even land the first blow he was swarmed by a mass of faceless figures, all of them stark white with black-as-pitch eyes. Your scream in the dream leaked into the waking world as a whimper and your dream-wrist was grabbed by a gentle but firm hand that began to pull you away. You knew it was Hawks, you were acutely aware even before a thousand silken feathers began piling between you and your brother. They made your vision swim, filled your eyes until you were blinded by red.

  
Yaoyorozu was the one who tugged you awake, hand on your wrist, voice gentle but urgent.

  
"Hey... hey! It's time to get up, we've got to eat and get you dressed for your last day of... of training. Come on, I know... I know it's hard but we've got to. We've got to go."

  
Her voice wobbled because it wasn't just the last day of training. You wondered if Aizawa had told her something similar her final day before the arena. She wasn't the same girl walking out as she'd been going in, you felt certain of that, and she knew you wouldn't be, either.

  
Bleary and rough, having gotten little actual rest, you obeyed. As you slipped into the magnificent bathroom with its marble Jacuzzi, she remained sitting on the bed staring at nothing in the dark. The sun wasn't up yet.

  
You brushed your hair, your teeth, and slipped into your skin-tight deep blue uniform while she continued to sit. Even as one of Ao's better fed residents, your hip bones still jutted through the fabric. You'd never felt terribly self-conscious until today, after last night, and you paused to stare at the mirror. You wondered if Hawks had noticed how thin you were, felt your bones beneath your silky outfit as you danced.

  
He must have when he'd pulled you close at the end. He'd nearly been wrapped around you, arms and wings. You hadn't felt any bones on him--just smooth, taut muscle and sinew. He'd been hot and cold throughout the night but in that moment, as he whispered in your ear, all you could remember was his irresistible warmth.

  
As you stepped back into the main room, feet sinking into the thick shag carpet that reached towards your ankles, you found yourself and Yaoyorozu looking at one another awkwardly. You'd dressed quickly but the sun had still had time to peak over the horizon, the silver light of dawn leaking through curtains you hadn't quite closed.

  
It was now that you saw her face, truly, the contours of unease, fear and sorrow that cast shadows on her otherwise lovely almond eyes and high cheeks. The Games had given her this pain and it had endowed her with this austere, sober loveliness that took someone a moment to find. She was a bittersweet beauty, the arena having stolen the purity of her youth. She'd retained her poise but it had been molded into the trappings of a victor.

  
It was sudden and it stung more than you thought it would coming from her. "I'm sorry," she choked and raised a hand to her mouth, turning her face away.

  
You wondered what she was sorry for. Was she sorry you were going into the arena or was she sorry that, if you did make it out, she knew how little awaited you on the other side?

  
Perhaps she was sorry that you had Hawks waiting for you. A part of you wondered if she thought you'd be better off dying in the Games. She'd probably feel very sorry if that was what she thought.

  
The situation was a little backwards to you seeing as you were heading into the arena tomorrow but you tentatively said, "I... I know. It's alright."

  
She burst into tears. You sat with her until the sunlight was strong and golden before she was able to quiet down, dry her eyes and join the others.

  
Yaoyorozu hadn't struck you as particularly attached but you now knew you'd been right about her from the start. It weighed her down, mentoring tributes. It tore her apart inside and hollowed her out. You wondered how many more years of it she could take and, if the time ever came, if you could bear this burden for another child with the same grace and composure as she had done for you.

  
\--

  
The day would be spent on your final training sessions. The evening would be dominated by live interviews.

For whatever reason, maybe a coping mechanism to distract from your impending doom, you'd fixated your attention over just what type of arena you'd be thrown into tomorrow. That information was top secret and it was considered treasonous for anyone on the inside to leak it to the public.

  
That's not to say that it hadn't been leaked before. It had a number of years ago, maybe about when you were four or five. The man whod done it had been executed by hanging on live TV. You remembered it, the awful choking sounds you couldn't hear because your mother had it on mute. You'd acted it out on occasion, because you'd seen it and it got a rise out of your mother and brother. Your mother hated when you did it, truly. It nearly sent her to tears.

  
Izuku had once said when you were older, "Remember how you used to go around pretending you were choking? You know where you got that?"

  
You were about ten then. "Yeah. That guy on the TV. The one who spoiled the arena for everybody."

  
"Yeah," Izuku said, attention trailing away for a few long moments. "It's not right. He didn't deserve to die, not for that. None of the heroes helped him. No one even tried." He'd swiped his nose, stood and went off to run around with his friends for the rest of the day.

  
His little statement had stuck with you, festered maybe. You'd never asked but you thought that was one of the events that drove Izuku to become a hero. If no one else would save that man and others like him, people that simply disagreed and disobeyed the government in benign ways, then Izuku would.

  
You wished he'd save you. He wanted to, desperately, but he must be unable. Maybe other heroes had felt the same way about that man who hung, helpless in the crushing grip of the Commission and societal elite.

  
You spent two more hours with Shinso, this time on tundra and moon-scape survival. He went over that for a reason. They'd had an arena about sixteen years ago that had a synthetic atmosphere, a gravity half that of earth and actual space vehicles that tributes could drive around. It had been one bizarre, very speedy Games, the lack of food and water, extreme temperatures and shortage of oxygen and oxygen tanks quickly eliminating a good three-quarters of the competition. In the end, a tiny kid with a gravity-manipulation quirk was the one to pull through. While others struggled to move, he'd turned his own gravity on to match earth's in order to run and jump like normal, giving him a stark advantage.

  
Based on how scanty his notes were on moon flora, you hoped to heaven it wouldn't be another inter-celestial experiment this year.  
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. You were left alone for the most part, thank goodness, and you suspected most of the others were just stewing in their angst over tonight's interviews. That was fine, saved you a few awkward encounters. Besides, you had no more opportunities to introduce anyone to Hawks and it seemed not many were too keen on allying with you.

  
Save one, or two. Or three. Amajiki was always lurking, sad eyes following you. Iida, you were certain, would team up but neither of you had said anything about it up until this point. You didn't want to put him in an uncomfortable position, make him feel like he had to agree to a quirkless alliance. Then there was Setsuna.

  
You'd thought about it long and hard, when you could break away from your existential dread over Hawks, your poor family and the fact that you were going to be fighting for your life tomorrow, and you'd come to a decision. You were thankful you happened by her in the halls just before the last class.

  
You caught her attention, pulled her to the side and said quickly, "I'll do it. Let's team up."

  
She jumped on that like a lifeline. "As soon as the gong sounds, you run. I'll get supplies. If there's a forest, run towards that. If not, go the direction that gets you away from the Cornucopia the quickest. Ao is always ninth in line, and Murasakino is twelfth... Whatever, I'll follow you."

  
"How about this," you said, knowing the bell was close to ringing. It made you anxious, conditioned from years of school, even though you knew these teachers wouldn't punish you. "We'll have a signal... A star, like this--" You drew three lines that intersected, giving you a six point star. "Wherever you end up, draw it on the ground or a tree or something. We'll know the other's close."

  
She looked determined but you could tell a smile was trying to break through. She was extremely relieved to have an ally even if it that ally was quirkless.

  
"Will do. See you tomorrow?" She held out a hand.

  
"See you tonight." You took it, giving a firm shake.

  
She snorted, turning away. "Yeah. I'm just ready to get it over with. I might have an audience in the arena but at least I can't see them."

  
You had to agree with the sentiment. You thought back to when you were little and had to make a speech in front of your class. You'd written it two days early, practiced for a solid three hours with a very generous Izuku and still felt awful standing up in front of all your classmates when it was go time. That's how you felt now, except this time you had Aizawa coaching you through your performance and no real time to prepare.

  
"You smile, you keep your chin up, you fake it 'till you make it," he said. When you fixed mortified eyes on him, he softened. "Just do your best, kid. That's all I'm asking."

  
"My best is terrible."

  
"No," he corrected, pointing a finger at you. "Your best is the biggest, most enthusiastic sponsor in all the games with a fat wallet to boot. You're already half way there."

  
"You're not helping by telling me what to do," you said petulantly. "So could you at least tell me what not to do?"

  
Aizawa's smile was sardonic. "Don't tell them to shove it where the sun don't shine. Well, if you can make that sound polite, go ahead. What're they gonna do to you?"

  
You were arena-bound anyways but they could humiliate you, burn you. They might go the poison route or break a bone, maybe blind you, cripple you, drug you until you didn't know up from down and then toss you into the Games... They could do quite a lot and not just to you. Your mother and Izuku were fair game, too. You knew that, Aizawa knew, everyone did--everyone except anyone in Tokyo.

  
Did Hawks understand? You had an inkling, just a whimsical inclination, that he must to some degree. He'd offered to steal you away, fly you off into the night and hide you. You didn't know where or for how long but the fact that he'd offered it told you he had some perception that this wasn't right, that you were frightened and sufficiently helpless. Having had time to mull it over, you realized, in his own unnerving way, he'd given you a little hope. Perhaps that was the most dangerous thing of all.

  
You hoped you'd make it out of the Games, you hoped Iida would still be alive by the time they were over, you hoped that Amajiki kid got to go back to Gin and that his district wouldn't suffer for his attempted escape. Most of all, you hoped your mother and Izuku wouldn't have to watch you die on live TV. You'd give just about anything, and you meant anything, to keep that from happening.

  
Aizawa laughed, a real, raw chuckle that shook his shoulders. "Truthfully, I don't think there's a thing you can go out there and do to mess things up. You're good to go, kid. It's just cameras and lights tonight."

  
It was Ms. Midnight later, behind the curtains in the wings of longtime Games commentator and interview host Present Mic, who seconded this sentiment and put into words the unspoken implication.

  
"You have Hawks and there's nothing you can do that will make him retract his sponsorship," she said, adjusting the dress you were wearing before asking you to turn around to mess with your hair. "You can just go out there and sit if you want. Say nothing. That's all you have to do and you'll still keep your sponsor."

  
Mina had come through again, a miracle-worker, although this time you were far less enthused with her work. It was another stark white outfit, this one an evening dress with long extra folds of fabric that trailed on the ground behind you. You'd not said anything but your expression must have told her you didn't particularly like the drag.

  
"I know it's... like, tangly, gives you a tangled feeling," Mina said, trying to soothe as she messed with the ruff of the collar, a heavy thing adorned with pure white feathers that lined the edges of the garment. "But it's classic Tokyo. They love the style, they'll be drooling. You won't have to move around too much anyways, just walk out on stage and sit. I promise, you won't even really notice it." She gave you a weak smile. "Tonight's interviews are all about Tokyo, crazy as that sounds. They get to know you, sure, but you get to see them up close."

  
"I already got to see them," you mumbled, trying not to fidget again. "At the Sponsor's Gala."

  
Mina didn't look like she particularly wanted to talk about that. You know it had been filmed from multiple angles and that you and your psycho sponsor had been one of the highlights of the night. Mina had more than likely seen it. She knew what it indicated, confirming her fears.

  
What she did talk about, inadvertently and to her chagrin, was the plume of the outfit. She couldn't fluff it up enough here, it was too thin over there, there was too much right there...

  
"God, Aizawa owes me," she growled to herself, definitely not to you. "If he ever asks for a last-minute alteration like this again, I might just quit. Dammit, I _hate_ \--"

  
She seemed to realize you were present and perfectly capable of hearing because she tried to suppress a tiny gasp, hand flying to her mouth as the other continued to work the ruff.

  
Looking down, running your fingers over the feathers, you asked, "So Aizawa asked you to do this?"

  
The snow woman was not particularly known for feathers. It's not as if she minded the cold and there were no birds in the Ao mountains you could think of that were such a magnificent, snowy white.

  
Mina had been unable to reply for a moment. Then she composed herself and came back at you with a straight face. It was a talent, really, one you thought she might have developed to survive her captivity. She wasn't bruised or hurt from any angle you could see but the sensitivity she had over anything related to her situation or yours seemed to put her quickly to tears.  
"At least they're pretty," she told you, smile weak. "They're very, very pretty."

  
Present Mic thought so, too, as Ms. Midnight nudged you out into the blinding hot lights on the interview stage. You were number seventeen of twenty-eight, following up behind District Aka's perfunctory red-haired boy tribute. He'd looked big and muscular as you'd stood not so far from each other in the off-stage. He'd caught your eye, sent you a small smile that toned down his intimidation factor. Hell, he looked so nervous you shouldn't have found him intimidating at all.

  
"And now we have our seventeenth tribute, our Miss Distrct Ao from the haunting beauty of the northern mountains, please welcome--well, good lord, isn't that a pretty dress?!"

  
The lights would have fried you if they were any hotter. You were squinting, you knew it, but no matter how you tried you couldn't force your eyes open. You could hear Aizawa in your head, raspy voice insisting, For the cameras, kid. I know it's rough but it's for the cameras. Just cameras and lights...

  
Setsuna had worried about seeing the audience but you were finding that to be no issue. Beyond the edge of the stage, the whole studio turned pitch black. You couldn't see a single thing but you knew they were there.

  
You wondered if Hawks was among them. You briefly hope Izuku was but tamped that out nearly instantly. They weren't going to let him anywhere near you after the stunt he pulled trying to attack a Commissioner.

  
"Well, that's just lovely," Present Mic said, snapping back your attention. "Honestly, all your outfits have been just, mmm-- _magnificque_! Wouldn't you agree, folks?" He held the microphone out to the void and a consenting cheer rose up. He turned back to you, tipping his head with its impossibly styled, cockatiel hair. "All thanks to your wonderful stylist. Mina, you never disappoint."

  
The crowd cheered some more and you couldn't miss the irony that Mina had disappointed herself. She'd told you the feathers were pretty, the whole dress was gorgeous, but you knew she hated it. A hand strayed from your lap were it was sweating and you ran it through the feathers which only compounded the heat on your neck. With his high collar and long sleeves, you wondered how in the world Present Mic was able to stand these lights.

  
"Yes," you agreed quietly, maybe too quiet because Mic leaned in. "She did her very best. She's a great stylist."

  
"I couldn't agree more, Miss Ao," Mic said enthusiastically, "But let's cut to the chase! This interview is about you--so..." He tipped the microphone your way, giving you a tilted smile and peering over his tinted glasses. "Would you mind telling us a little about yourself?"

  
This threw you. Why? Because everything did anymore. You were heading to the Games and your last few days of freedom you would spend an ignorant, naive little dummy who let herself be surprised by everything.

  
"What would you like to know?" you asked finally, swallowing down your momentary panic. Dammit, at least your three minutes must be a third through by now.

  
When Mic gave you an ebullient smile, it occurred to you these next two minutes might be the longest of your entire life. Flashing that smile to the crowd, he asked, "Weell... How about it, folks? What's the question on all your minds, on all our minds..." Leaning over really close to you as if about to exchange secrets, he whispered into the mic, "What's up with you and Hawks?"

  
Ah, yes. Of course. Duh. Stupid, stupid, honestly. You walked right into that like a dumb Ao bumpkin, yes you did. Aizawa would have told you to control the conversation, Ms. Midnight would probably tell you it was about time you shut up and sat there. You weren't an animal on parade, you were a human being. Best not turn yourself into an idiot on parade.

  
The truth, though? What _was_ between you and Hawks?

  
"I'm not sure," you admitted out loud, more to yourself than anyone else.

  
Mic immediately shook his head at you, wagging his microphone your way. "No, no, no. I'm not taking that for an answer. How about you?" He threw an arm towards the crowd who sent a resounding, 'No!' back. You shrank down in your seat, chin tucking into the feathers. Your palms were sweating buckets.

  
Despite his flamboyance, Mic wasn't oblivious to your discomfort. Gentling his voice, he said, "Come on, sweetheart, we're all dying to know. How about a hint? Just a little hint to put all our minds at ease? We're obsessed, kid. We've got a minute-and-a-half left but I'll turn that into however long I need to get you to tell us what it is between you and Hawks. That's not a threat, by the way."  
When you didn't respond, he switched tactics.

  
"All right, let's try this. Yes and no questions, that's easy enough. Anyone can answer these. I'll ask three, just three. Had you two ever met before you came to Tokyo?"

  
You told yourself to go along with it, it was fine, and shook your head. "I--no, no we'd never met."

  
Mic's eyebrows went up and he gave you a sideways look. "Really? Okay. Second question, is he as handsome up close as he is on TV?" He laughed in the crowd's direction. "I've met him a few times but they never believe me so maybe if you tell them--"

  
He trailed off and you weren't sure what to say. To say no would throw off a lot of these people, to say yes would undoubtedly gas up Hawks' ego. You didn't know him well but you'd put a fair bet the man had a vanity streak. 

  
Looking down at the ruff of feathers, you ran your fingers over them again. They were soft as satin and downy, reminding you that you could say anything and still have a gentle place to crash land. There was no shaking Hawks.

  
"He's alright," you replied, giving a weak smile when Mic stifled a gasp, hand to his mouth.

  
"Alright? Just alright?! You're a sassy thing, you are! Telling us the nation's number one heartthrob is just ' alright'!" he said, shaking a finger at you. "I've gotta say, Hawks has taken on quite a bit with you!" It was only now you realized that nothing had been mentioned explicitly about your quirklessness tonight. You were thankful even if you knew it was just old news and there was far juicer information Tokyo knew it could extract from you in this interview. "Last question, sweetheart, and you're free to go. These lights sure are hot, aren't they? Okay, tell me, do you, possibly, maybe, have any plans for after the Games? The two of you, I mean."

  
And again. Another curve ball you should have seen coming from a mile out. If there was ever a time to shut up, it was now. Really, you didn't even know what to say, not a clue.

  
Cameras and lights. You didn't have to say anything. You could've just sat there if you wanted--key phrase, _if you wanted_. But, you know, you didn't want to just sit here and take this. You didn't want to face whatever was coming for you in the Games and you definitely weren't down for what was likely coming after the Games. You thought of Mina's teary face and how much she clearly hated the life she'd been forced into.

  
Your let your hand, clammy unlike the rest of you which was burning, fold into your lap. With it came a single feather stuck your palm. You gently picked it up and let it float to the ground.

  
"I'm just going to try and make it through the arena first," you said to Mic with your best weak smile. "I don't want to think about what happens after until I get there. You know what I mean?"

  
He didn't, he really didn't, and he said, " _Of course_ , I understand. We understand, don't we?" The crowd sounded their sympathy and Mic emphasized their sentiment with, "It's hard to imagine things that may or may not ever come to be but we're rooting for you. And Hawks, of course, I'm sure he's here tonight--" He waved his hand into the darkness. "Somewhere out there."

  
As you and Mic rose to give both each other and the audience a polite bow, you felt something tickling the nape of your neck. You wanted to reach behind you and remove it but the dress was confining and you knew it would tear if you contorted your arms that far. You refrained and took your seat with the other tributes who had already finished their interviews. It stopped bugging you and you quickly forgot about it.

  
It was much later as you were removing the gown in your plush hotel room that you realized what it was. 

  
A crimson feather with a tiny scrap of rolled paper tied to it had buried itself into the ruff of ivory feathers on your dress. You already knew who it was from but your heart still managed to plummet into your stomach as you read from the note, _Don't you worry, birdy. I'll get you through that arena. Can't have you missing out on all the plans for what comes after. You're going to love it._

  
You went to bed that night acutely aware this may be the very last time you have the opportunity to sleep in a bed, safe, and that you would need all your wits about you tomorrow.

  
You hardly slept a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be on break next week. I'm working ahead to give my betas time to look over my next chapter and get us into a routine. We'll see if I can bang another one out by this Monday...
> 
> I really tried to integrate the tribute scores but this chapter was already a beast and I just couldn't come up with anything extra that I wanted to throw in. So... I skipped it! shoot me, lol
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Games next time! This chapter needed more attention than I thought it would!


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